Author's Guild I: The 2008 Ego Incident
by Phyllis Joy Wolfe
Summary: Full Summary Inside: There are few of us in the author's guild that have not heard about The Ego Incident, but only one author knows what REALLY happened. How one author's error put her right in the middle of the greatest mystery of Author's Guild History
1. Prologue

Full Summary: In a moment of frustration one author makes a fatal mistake that not only costs her author's protection, but her memory as well. Now a half-ghost exiled to the Phantom realm without a clue to her own past, she must take part in the very story she was studying. Can she survive being caught in the crossfire of Danny and Vlad's hatred? Will she decide to use her powers for good, evil, or mere gain? And what does all of this have to do with a shiny blue rock? Fellow AGO's, this is what you've been waiting for. The truth behind the 2008 Ego Incident.

A/N: Hey! My first Author's Guild fic! ^_^ If you don't know what that means, you may want to check out the blurb at the bottom of my profile, just real quick k? Although I should hope I give enough of a clue in this prologue for your basic understanding, it'll help.

Anyways, this story is set after the third season. Right smack in fall 2008 to be precise, but it does not appear to account for the events in Phantom Planet. You'll have to ask our good friend Rebecca about that one. o_- .

And speaking of Rebecca, you'll have to forgive me, this prologue actually contains very little of the DP world. It's a necessary set up chapter, but fear not! We will get right into Phantom's domain right after it! ^_^

Anywho! Do hope you enjoy! Now let's get to it!

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Danny Phantom

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><p>It was Tuesday, and I was at the assignment room waiting to put in a claim for what I was sure would be another dead-end run of interviews. I hadn't had much luck on the last several assignments, and I was running out of places to hunt. I could tell from the mild squabbling between other Author's and their muses that I wasn't the only one. We were having what we in the Author's Guild call a 'dry spell'. I looked at my own muse, Bandersnatch, who was tugging at his mane in a restless fashion. I couldn't say I blamed him.<p>

"You're liable to go hairless that way you know," I told him, smirking. He glared, but said nothing.

I sighed and began looking around the room again. That's when I spotted her. A young woman about my age, sitting on the ground nearby, looking rather intently at her laptop. She tiredly ran a hand through her short brown hair, her grey eyes wearily examining whatever was on the screen. She held a long white feather between the thumb and forefinger of her left hand, which she occasionally pressed against her cheek with a sad shake of her head.

I patted Bandersnatch's neck.

"Do you know her?" I asked.

"I'm a muse, not a directory," he replied, looking at the girl. "If you're so curious, go talk to her."

"Alright," I said, "Let's go."

"What, me?"

"Yes _you_," I replied, tapping his nose playfully. "Who knows? Maybe she's got some useful gossip for our next assignment."

Bandersnatch rolled his eyes, but followed as I made my way over to the other author. I approached from the rear so I could see what it was she was so interested in before she noticed me. What can I say? I'm nosy. I was surprised to find her reading a Danny Phantom fanfic. Reading another authors fanfic, in the assignment room, during a _dry spell?_ Whatever she was reading, it _had_ to be good.

She didn't look up as I sat down next to her and began reading over her shoulder. I cringed as I read the text before me. Every character was terribly out of character, the action was shoddy at best, and the dialogue had fared no better. Obviously whoever had written this fic had done a terrible job at translating their interviews.

"You're enjoying this?" I asked.

"Not really," the author replied, not looking up from her screen.

"Then why read it?"

She smiled a bit.

"I like to keep an eye on him."

"The author?"

"No," she shook her head and pointed to one of the badly written bits of dialogue. "_Him_."

"_Him?_" I echoed, staring incredulously at where she had pointed. "Why him?"

The woman regarded me a long moment, then looked up at my muse studying him as well.

"Tell me," she said in almost a whisper, "have you ever gotten into trouble with the council?"

I chuckled.

"Have you heard of the "Stalker Situation of August 2007"?

The woman smirked.

"You're Phyllis."

I nodded.

"Rebecca Anne Bennett," she said, holding out her hand in greeting. "Or Fable Tailor if you prefer to go by pen name. Anyway, that story was, well-"

"Not entirely true," I admitted, accepting the handshake. "I never sent that letter. I met Nando after the contest and convinced him to help me play a prank on the council."

"So it was all a set up," Rebecca surmised, grinning.

"Yep," I replied. "I mean, he's a nice guy, but hardly my type. Still, the council wasn't too happy with me. I lost my author's protection and spent the next twelve hours in an oubliette. Thankfully the council member who caught me wasn't very creative."

"You were lucky," Rebecca agreed.

"But what does the council have to do with your interest in _him_?" I pressed.

The author's smile faded a bit.

"What do you know about the 2008 Ego Incident?" she inquired.

"Only that it was one of the biggest things to go down in DP realm," I replied, "and that they didn't allow even one AGO down there to cover it. The DP writers were _furious_."

"Well, that's not entirely true," Rebecca confessed, "There was _one_ AGO down there, although, I hardly think she was in a position to do any writing at the time."

"Wait, _you_ were down there?"

Rebecca nodded.

"It was during a dry spell like this one," she explained. "I hadn't had much luck in my usual department, so I had decided to try my hand at a Danny Phantom fic. I filled out the paperwork like usual; Realm: Danny Phantom, Story type: Unfolding, Primary characters: Danny Fenton, Sam Manson, Tucker Foley-"

"And Vlad Masters?"

"Yes, Vlad Masters," the woman replied with a grin. "He was almost always up to _something_, so I figured if I was going to see a story play out, he would more than likely be at the center of it. I filed my paperwork and was accepted for assignment the very next day. They were giving me a whole week for my first run. I hoped it was all I would need."

She paused.

"The next day is when the rumors started," she said quietly. "Something big was going down in the Phantom realm. An artifact that should never be found would soon be hunted, and the hunter was _not _Vlad Masters. I debated for two days on changing my antagonist. If the rumors were true it would be a really big break for me. If not, I was back to square one. I ran the possibilities in my mind time after time, thought about the risk I would be taking, but finally, the night before my departure, I decided to edit the paperwork."

I nodded. An AGO is allowed one character change per trip. It was a serious decision.

"That morning was awful," she continued, "I hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, so I was already irritable. Then there were all the 'little things'."

"Little things?"

"Yeah," she replied with a chuckle, "Like my sister Maggie finishing off the cereal, my parents griping about my staying out too late, missing the first bus and being late to my college class, realizing I had forgotten to do one out of five pieces of homework due _that day_." She grinned sardonically. "_Little things._" She leaned back a bit and sighed.

"Everything within me said not to go that evening," she said, "to request a delay. The next day was my day off, so it wouldn't have really been a problem for me, but I was so ready to leave my humdrum life behind, spend a week watching someone else's life, so I packed my bag and left.

It had been a while since I'd explored a two dimensional world, so it took a while for me to get my bearings. You know; stop expecting everything to be made of cardboard when I walked around it. I had planned the first day as just a simple survey day, mostly to find out where everything was. I got lost pretty quickly though. Took me an hour just to find the school. Then it took me another fifteen minutes to figure out where I needed to go from there.

Just as I rounded one corner, I ran straight in to Dash Baxter, or rather, his elbow. He had been swinging back for a knock out punch, and just happened to catch me right in the chest."

She looked at me pointedly.

"Of course I knew he couldn't really do any damage with my author's protection intact," she said, "but it still hurt like heck, and with everything else that had happened that day, well, I guess I just snapped."

…

"What is _wrong_ with you?" Rebecca screeched, pushing Dash up against the locker. "You get some kind of weird fun out of knocking into other people?"

"N-no ma'am," Dash stammered, obviously not sure what to make of the insane shouting girl.

"I think you do," she spat, "and you know what else you- you hippopatamic landmass?"

"W-what?"

...

"I was about to lay into him, give him a good piece of my mind when I happened to catch sight of just who it was Dash had been about to punch. None other than Tucker Foley." She sighed again. "As if I wasn't already in deep enough, I got this crazy, stupid idea."

...

"I think you need to apologize!" the author said, grinning wildly.

"A-apologize?" Dash stammered.

"Yes," Rebecca returned, arms crossed indignantly. "To _them_."

Dash looked over at the still gawking teenagers.

"But- but I didn't do nothin'!" he whined.

"That's a double negative you underdeveloped Goliath!" the girl exclaimed, "and do you really think I'm as stupid as you _look?_"

…

"He didn't get to hear the last part. I know because, as I said it the room… changed."

"And you were standing before the council," I surmised.

"Yes," the other writer confirmed, "I'd been caught by none other than Buchara."

"Buchara!" I exclaimed. "The _executioner_?"

Rebecca nodded.

"As I said, you were lucky."

…

Rebecca looked around the large semicircular room in terror. _This_ was the council's reckoning room. She stood at the straight side of the semicircle on a small raised platform, surrounded on every side by brown cloaked council members.

"Author's Guild Operative 39752KLB," the council member directly in front of her began in a deep voice, "you are accused to the wanton disregard of the Author's Guild's only rule."

The girl gulped as she stared at the figure before her. The council obviously didn't mince words. She was in trouble.

"How do you plead?" the figure inquired. Rebecca heaved a strong sigh, knowing there would be no use in denying what they had undoubtedly witnessed.

"Guilty," she said softly.

"Wise answer," the figure replied, "We in the council do not take kindly to liars. However, even your honestly cannot retract what you have done. Punishment must still be handed down. In accordance with our laws, your punishment will be handed down by your witness. Buchara, please step forward and assign your penalty."

"Buchara?" the girl gasped. Now she _knew_ she was in trouble.

"Operative 39752KLB," Buchara's dark, oily voice echoed throughout the council room, "You are hereby sentenced to a loss of your Author's Protection, and exiled to the realm in which you were conducting your last investigation-"

"Wait, WHAT?"

"Do not interrupt _child_," Buchara returned, irritably. "This is only temporary."

"How long?" the girl asked.

"I said do not interrupt!" the councilmember shouted. "Your insolence will cost you the details of your sentencing, am I _clear_?"

Rebecca bit her lip anxiously, but nodded.

"Goood," Buchara crooned, "As I said, this exile, as well as the loss of your author's protection will only be temporary. All sentencing for this particular case will hold until the current story is played out. You wanted to be a part of it," the councilmember sneered, "now you _are_."

The girl shuddered but said nothing.

"And to ensure you _do _take part," Buchara continued darkly, "we will be putting you _right_ in the enemy's grasp."

Rebecca's eyes widened in terror as she suddenly recalled the direction of her story.

"No!" she exclaimed, "You can't! That's _murder_!"

"SILENCE!" Buchara screamed, "Insolent child! Do not worry, I am sure that given the further details of your sentencing, you will be able to handle Vlad Masters just fine!"

Rebecca blinked. _Vlad Masters_? Of course! Buchara hadn't seen the updated paperwork! They obviously weren't going to send her to Danny, and the only other person who could possibly help would be Vlad Masters. She only had to convince him that she knew what she was talking about. It was Br'er Rabbit and the Briar Patch, and like that cunning rabbit, Rebecca knew she had to object.

"Please," she muttered weakly, "don't do this. I- I'm only _human_."

"Not for long," the councilmember sneered.

Rebecca stiffened.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, I'm _sorry_ Operative 39752KLB," Buchara replied with chuckle, "I'm afraid you've just exhausted my patience. As for the final details of your sentencing, well," the councilmember laughed, "I guess you'll just have to be _surprised_."

Rebecca hugged herself as if to keep out the chill of the man's tone. She thought of "The Snow Queen" and the splinters of mirror that would turn hearts to ice.

"Author's Guild Operative 39752KLB," the first councilmember proclaimed, "Let your sentencing be carried out just as Buchara has written it!"

"Hear, hear!" chimed the other council members.

"Council member Buchara," the head council member continued, "You may now begin to implement your punishment."

"As you have declared it," Buchara replied with sadistic glee. "Child!" he addressed Rebecca, "Your sentencing begins… Now!"

Suddenly, a pair of council members was at her side. One drew a large syringe out of his cloak while the other grabbed her from behind to restrain her. Rebecca gasped as she felt the large needle pierce her shoulder, an icy liquid, colder than Buchara's words, suddenly invading her body. She screamed as she felt every part of her begin to tear itself apart in its futile attempt to reject the foreign substance. She continued to scream and convulse as the pain shot through every inch of her being. Then, suddenly, it stopped. She gasped for air, supporting herself on her knees with her hands.

Her hands! They- they were… two dimensional? But… this was a three dimensional zone!

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?" She screeched.

"More than you yet realize," Buchara sneered, lifting the girl back to a standing position. The councilmember leaned in close to her face, but Rebecca could not feel any warmth in the breath.

"I do hope you'll enjoy this," Buchara whispered, "because I know I'm going to enjoy every, single, minute of it."

…

"The next thing I knew," Rebecca told me, "I was back in the hallway. The utterly bewildered look on Dash's face was the last thing I saw before I just, lost consciousness."

We sat there for a long silent moment. Even my usually talkative muse had nothing to say. Finally Rebecca sighed, touching the feather to her lips.

"Do you want to hear the rest of the story?" She asked.

"You have to ask?" Bandersnatch snarked, finally finding his voice. I pulled an unused notebook out of my bag.

"Do you mind if I take notes?" I asked.

Rebecca smiled grimly.

"I suppose not," she replied, "It would probably please the council. They've been trying to get me to tell this story for two years now. It'll be nice to finally get them off my back."

I nodded. Among many other things, the council was irritatingly persistent.

"Well," she said, seeing I was ready, "Things got a great deal more complicated once I finally woke up. You see-"

And that, my friends, is how I discovered the truth behind the 2008 Ego Incident.

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><p>AN:

Phyllis: So, whaddya think? ^_^

Bandersnatch: I think you're crazy.

Phyllis: Nobody asked you fuzz brain!

Bandersnatch: The council's gonna kill us when they read what you said about Buchara!

Phyllis: C'mon, they don't read _every_story we write!

Bandersnatch: yeah, that's what you said before we published My Letter to Nando. YOU WEREN'T THE ONLY ONE IN THAT OUBLIETTE!

Phyllis: -_- You might want to leave before his head explodes, though if you'd like to stop by the review button first, we'd sure appreciate it! ^_^

Additional Author's Note: Nearly forgot to add this. Just wanted to let you guys know that the ghost physics that will be used in this story are the same as the physics used by Pearl84 in her DP fics. (with her permission of course) Said fics are quite exceptional, so I suggest you check them out. ^_^


	2. Waking

A/N: Okay, so first of all, I want to make it perfectly clear that I do NOT usually update this quickly. I'd had to wait for a few things before I could post the prologue, so naturally I had already started work on the first chapter.

Now, to some review acknowledgments. ^_^

Flops- I mean CrescentMoon: As always, good to hear from you ^_^ Hope you enjoy this chappie as much as the first!

VampireFrootloopsRule: Hmm... maybe I'll just call you Frootloop... or Loopy! Or-

Bandersnatch: Just stop before you hurt yourself.

Anyways, thanks so much to you and CW for the review, and even more so for saying yes to being my beta in this lovely mess! ^_^ As to your becoming an AGO? Well, the council, (which maintains, of course, that they do NOT exist) has agreed to consider your request.

And, now that's taken care of, ON WITH THE SHOW!

Disclaimer: Danny Phantom? Nope, don't own him. Know of a few ghosts who wish they could though. ^_^

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><p><em>"So what do we do?<em>

_"…I don't know."_

The strange girl stirred, unnoticed in the corner of the lab as her mind began to reawaken.

_"I can't let my parents find her here."_

_Voices, she thought tiredly, _Floor… cold… where… where am I?"__

She opened her eyes slowly, blinking into the white light. From her current vantage point she surmised that she must be in some sort of facility. Was it medical? Scientific?

_"Yeah, they'll probably want to try some freaky experiment on her."_

The girl sat up carefully, still feeling a bit dizzy from whatever had happened to her.

What _had happened to her?_

"Or rip her apart, molecule by molecule."

She looked around, quickly taking notice of the imposing looking weapons on the incredibly shiny stainless steel tables.

Definitely _not a medical facility._

"Where am I?"

Danny, Sam and Tucker stopped talking and moved carefully to where the girl was sitting on the floor, hand pressed to her forehead. She looked up, a bit dazed, and looked at each of them in turn, Tucker, Danny, Sam, then suddenly back to Danny.

"Hey," she muttered, staring into the boy's blue eyes, "I know you… You're Danny Ph- ph… f… Ah crud," she sighed. "I knew it just a second ago. I'm sure it's the ph sound… or is it the f sound? Or both? No, that doesn't-" She scrunched her face in annoyance. "Why is it so echoey in here?"

"It's not," said Sam. "You're a ghost."

The girl smirked.

"That's ridiculous," she replied. "Ghosts are dead, and I am _not dead."_

The three teens looked at one another, not certain how to respond.

"See for yourself," Danny advised, gesturing toward the mirror.

The girl frowned, certain they were teasing her, but eventually stood slowly and walked over to the mirror. Looking back at her was a girl with short, wine colored hair and glowing, plum violet eyes. She was wearing an off-white poet's blouse, grey breeches, and black, calf high, renaissance style boots. All of this took but a moment for her to take in before panic set in.

"My hair!" she exclaimed. "My eyes! This isn't me! This can't be what I look like!"

"Calm down," Sam advised, "We saw you change back at the school, and, well, since ghosts generally leave behind a body-"

"We're guessing you might just be half ghost," Tucker finished.

"Like you," the girl said, looking at Danny. He blinked in surprise.

"Well… uh, yeah, but how did you-"

"Not sure, don't really care right now," the girl replied, "just tell me how to- AH!"

Sam and Tucker caught the ghost girl as her leg phased through the floor.

"Change back," she finished weakly.

Danny frowned.

"Well," he said, "you really should have changed back already. I never stay in ghost form when I'm unconscious. Whatever happened to you back there, it must have hit you pretty hard.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we're really not sure what happened," said Sam. "I mean, one minute you're screaming at Dash-"

"Which was totally cool to watch by the way," Danny interjected.

"And the next you were passed out on the floor."

The girl thought about that a moment.

"Then maybe I did…" she shook her head. "No. I'm not willing to accept that."

"That might be why you're a ghost," Tucker suggested.

"No, please," she turned back to Danny, desperation in her dark eyes, "just tell me what I have to do. I'll try anything!"

Danny frowned.

"O-okay," he said tentatively, "well… I guess…" He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to think of how to explain it. "Just… think about being human."

The girl frowned in response. _Think about being human? It seemed insanely simple. Still, she had said she would try _anything.__

"Here goes," she muttered.

She stood there for several long moments, just trying to feel human. The only trouble was, at the moment she wasn't quite sure just how that was supposed to feel. The story of The Six Swans came to mind. Six brothers, cursed to remain in a different form until their sister silently sewed them shirts for a year and a day.

_Sure hope it doesn't take me that_ long, she thought grimly, _can't imagine what-___

Suddenly she felt a strange sensation, as if every small part of her were snapping into place. There was an odd feeling in her midsection and she gasped as it flowed in opposing directions across her body. She blinked a moment, shuddered, then turned back to the mirror. Grey eyes, short brown hair, the poets blouse and breeches gone, replaced by a purple butterfly tee, pale blue jeans and black sneakers.

"I'm me again!" she cried joyfully. She tugged at her hair as if to make sure it was real, and hugged herself with delight. "I'm not dead! I'm _not dead!"_

Sam grinned in amusement. She'd never seen someone so thankful to be alive. Well, except maybe Danny, after the whole 'cloning incident.'

"So… who are you anyway?" asked Danny.

"Oh gosh!" she exclaimed, "I'm so sorry. I mean, with the ghost thing, and being unconscious for heaven knows how long, and- AH!"

She shook her now intangible arm as if to thereby banish the effects. "Anyway," she continued, still staring warily at her arm, "My name is… I'm…" her eyes widened. "I… I can't remember! Dangit! What _happened to me?"_

"You can't remember your name?" asked Sam.

The girl shook her head.

"No… In fact…" she thought a moment, "I don't remember _anything!" Her eyes widened in sudden panic. "Not friends, not family, where I came from, why I'm here-"_

"You knew who I was though," Danny interjected, "but I've never met you before."

The girl shook her head and hugged herself again.

"I know your _name," she replied, "Danny, uh… something, and I know you're half ghost. I don't know anything beyond that. I don't even know how I know _that much! And then," she turned to the other two, "I feel like I _should know your names as well… maybe… maybe Danny's the last thing my mind latched onto, though since we've never met, I couldn't begin to guess why."___

"Well… I'm Tucker, and this is Sam," said Tucker.

"Pleased to meet you," the girl replied with a polite nod, though it was clear she was only half listening. "What happened to me?" she asked softly, "I just wish I could remember _something."_

"You really can't remember anything at all?" asked Sam.

"Well," the girl replied thoughtfully, "I can remember stories. Jack and the Beanstalk, The White Snake, Velveteen Rabbit… and then there's all these little wise sayings going through my head, like, never build a pan-sauce in a nonstick skillet… whatever _that's supposed to mean. Basic motor skills and the like are intact, but it's the _people. The people and places and basic memories are all gone! Then there's any _personal information. My name, my age, heck, I feel lucky I was able to recognize myself when I turned human a moment ago."___

"Maybe if we go back to the school we can find something to tell us what happened to you," Danny suggested.

"School?"

"Y'know," said Tucker, "the place you go to learn stuff. Teachers, bad cafeteria food, gym clas-"

"No, no, I know that," the girl replied, "I just meant-"

"It's where you passed out," Sam explained.

"Ah," she nodded, "probably a good idea then."

"We'd better go before it gets any later," Danny advised, starting up the steps, the other three followed after.

"So… what do we call you then?" asked Tucker, "I mean, until you get your memories back."

The girl thought a moment.

"Fable," she replied.

"Fable?" Sam echoed incredulously.

The girl, Fable, shrugged.

"It just feels right," she said.

"Okay Fable," said Danny, "let's go find your memories."

OoOoOoO

One hour and only a few blocks later, they were standing in an alleyway. Fable's lack of control with her intangibility was slowing them down a great deal, and after she had fallen through the sidewalk for the seventeenth time, they had stopped to assess the situation.

"I'm sorry, guys," Fable moaned.

"It's not your fault," Tucker assured her.

"Yeah," Danny agreed, "I had trouble with my intangibility when I first got my powers, too."

"Not quite _this much trouble though," Tucker intoned as Fable attempted to balance on her now one remaining tangible leg._

The only good thing about the delay was that Fable had managed to learn a great deal about her new friends. Tucker was a "techno-geek" which, from what she could gather was short for "master of the electronic machine". He spent most of the walk making jokes to lighten the situation.

Sam was quick to tell her she was an "ultra-recyclo-vegetarian" and Danny was even quicker to tell her what that meant. When Fable asked if "not eating anything with a face" included gingerbread men, Tucker laughed. Sam punched him in the arm.

Danny, she had already known, was half-ghost. Apparently this wasn't common knowledge. His parents, who were ghost hunters, didn't know either, and Danny had no plans to tell them anytime soon. He also had an older sister named Jazz. She knew about Danny, but was currently away at college. The way Danny talked about her, the girl had to be some sort of genius. Danny spent most of the walk holding Sam's hand. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what _that_ meant.

"Well, we're not getting anywhere fast this way," Fable said, returning to the problem at hand. "There's got to be a better way for me to get around."

"What about flying?" Sam suggested.

"Flying?" Fable queried.

Danny facepalmed.

"Of course!" he exclaimed, "why didn't we think of that before?"

"Maybe because I _can't fly!" Fable replied._

"Of course you can," Tucker assured her, "all ghosts can fly."

Fable bit her lip uncertainly.

"Okay," she said, "so what do I do?"

"Well, you need to be in your ghost form," Danny informed her.

"Alright," Fable replied. She sighed and closed her eyes, trying to recall the feeling of her previous transformation. More quickly than before, she felt a strange sensation; this time, a sort of energized chill as if every small part of her was coming undone. She gasped and stumbled backwards a bit, startled by the sensation.

"Do you ever get used to that?" she inquired.

Danny shrugged.

"I never had a problem."

"Okay," Fable sighed, "so now what?"

Danny gave her a quizzical look.

"You, um… fly."

"How?"

"You… You just do!"

Fable sighed, grasping a fistful of wine colored hair in exasperation.

"Look," said Danny, "do you want my help or not?"

"I'm sorry," she replied, "I'm just still really new to this. I don't even know where to start!"

Danny stared at her a moment. How could she not figure out how to do what he knew to do on instinct? It was like teaching someone to breathe, or to blink.

"Well," he said, "you… uh… I mean-"

OoOoOoO

Vlad Masters watched the scene play out on the view screen, a single eyebrow cocked in amusement. This girl really was a piece of work, but she hardly seemed the threat his strange guest had implied. This Buchara was right about one thing though. Daniel could _not teach the girl. As astoundingly capable as the boy had become with his powers, he still lacked the knowledge of how or why they worked. Something he could easily teach the boy if he would only accepted his offer._

Vlad had to laugh when, at Tucker's suggestion, the girl climbed a nearby stack of boxes. Judging by her pained expression, even she knew this wasn't going to end well.

Stripped of her memories, turned into a half-ghost, just what had the girl done to merit such a strange punishment?

The stranger had said it was none of his business, but Vlad was hardly going to accept that. Nor would he leave alone the matter of the creature itself. It seemed to be neither ghost, nor human, nor even spirit. In fact, it hadn't registered on any of his instruments at all. The superior, self satisfied air with which the being had conducted itself was not to Vlad's liking, nor was he terribly inclined to trust a being that refused to show its face.

Still, if what Buchara had said was true, he could not ignore it.

"_With the proper motivation, she could be either a great asset, or a terrible enemy. It's up to you, Masters."_

_Vlad scoffed. "And just how do you propose I motivate_ the child?"__

"_You're a clever man, Masters," the creature sneered. "I'm sure you can think of something."_

"_And if she should regain her memories?"_

_Buchara chuckled darkly._

"_Retain her loyalty, Masters, and it will not be an issue."_

"_How can I be certain?"_

_The figure hissed._

"_I'm handing you what could be, in the right hands, a very powerful weapon," it spat. "Your hands, Masters. Whether or not you choose to take the opportunity we are so graciously_ giving you is up to you; however-"__

_It reached into its cloak and, as if it had been there all along, produced a large, navy blue duffel bag, and a small hard-backed notebook._

"_I would at least consider it if I were you." Buchara set the items on a nearby table then turned as if to leave. "She is with the boy you call Daniel," it said. "So you will have no trouble locating her I should think. Good day, Masters."_

The way the creature had spoken, it had almost sounded as if all of this somehow centered around_ him. Vlad wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea._

He turned to take another look at the diagnostic screen. Truly there seemed to be nothing spectacular about the girl, aside from her being half ghost; though admittedly his information was quite limited at this range. He looked back over at the view screen. The girl had returned to her human form and Danny was trying, once again, to teach her the basics of flying.

"I think you really just have to believe you can do it," Danny suggested.

"Look!" the girl replied. "This whole, 'faith, trust, pixie dust mentality? It doesn't work for me, and it's not even the pixie dust I'm missing!"

Vlad's eyes shot back over to the diagnostic screen. Had he seen? He moved closer to console, directing it to display the last set of data. Yes, there had been a momentary increase in the girl's energy level, but what had caused it?

"I'm sorry," the girl said sadly, "I'm just… Let's try a different approach, okay? Maybe if you tell me what I'm supposed to be feeling. What does flying _feel like?"_

A smile tugged at Danny's lips.

"It feels like-" he paused, reflectively. "It's the most amazing thing you've _ever experienced! The sky, the stars, it's just _amazing! And when you can get enough speed-"__

The girl suddenly burst into laughter.

"Okay, _slow down Icarus," she said. "That's not exactly what I meant."_

Vlad's eyes widened. It had happened again, a sudden energy spike, as if the girl were trying to use her ghost powers. What was the connection? He thought a moment. Could it be? But no, that didn't make any sense.

_Still…_

Vlad's eyes narrowed. Perhaps it was time he took a closer look.

OoOoOoO

"Icar-what?" Danny inquired, a bit perturbed at the interruption.

Sam smiled.

"The Boy who Flew too Close to the Sun," she said.

Fable nodded.

"Icarus's father, Daedalus, was an inventor," she explained, "commissioned by king Minos to construct an elaborate labyrinth to imprison his son, who happened to be a Minotaur. Of course, he didn't want anyone _else to know his son was a Minotaur, so he had Daedalus and his son imprisoned as well."_

Maintaining his invisibility, Vlad landed in the alley just near enough to see the girl and hear what she was saying.

"It didn't take long for Daedalus and his son to decide that this was _not where they wanted to spend the rest of their lives."_

Danny nodded, recalling his own experience with labyrinths and Minotaurs.

"The trouble was that Daedalus had built his labyrinth a little _too well. So well in fact, that even he couldn't find his way out of it." Fable's eyes shone with excitement at the retelling. Only Vlad seemed to notice that they were glowing violet._

"Knowing they had to find some way out, Daedalus began to think, and to plan. Finally, he came up with an idea. He and his son spent months collecting feathers from the gulls that flew overhead, and finally, when there were enough, Daedalus took some wax and fashioned-" She closed her eyes, raising her arms dramatically, "two pairs of beautiful white wings."

There was a collective gasp from the three teens. Vlad's eyes widened considerably. Now _this was interesting._

Fable opened her eyes, quirking an eyebrow at her new friends. Then she turned her head and yelped in surprise. Hanging from her shoulders were a large pair of beautiful white wings, tied to her arms with soft white ribbon.

"Woah."

"Did you just-"

"How did you-"

Vlad smirked as he moved toward the street side of the alley. If there were going to be an opportune moment, this was it.

"They're… just as I imagined them," Fable muttered numbly. "Icarus's wings…"

"Do they work?" asked Tucker. Fable continued to stare at the wings.

"I… I don't-"

"Abigail!"

Fable started and turned her head. A tall, well dressed man with white hair was walking her direction. His face was a picture of both relief and concern as his dark blue eyes stared into her grey ones.

Wait… was he talking to _her?_

"Vlad," Danny intoned darkly. What was _he doing here?_

Vlad chose to ignore the younger hybrid's tone and continued to address the girl.

"What on earth are you doing out _here?" he demanded. "Did I not tell you to wait for me at the train station?"_

Fable opened and closed her mouth several times, but no sound came out.

"Wait, you know Vlad Masters?" asked Tucker. Fable turned to him with a helpless look.

"Of course," Vlad replied, "she's my sister's daughter. My_ niece."_

Fable's eyes widened.

"I… I-"

"I suppose I should thank the three of you for finding her," Vlad intoned, "but honestly Daniel, what were you thinking bringing her all the way out here, especially in her present condition?"

_My condition? thought Fable. Did he know about her being half ghost?_

There was something in the older hybrid's tone that didn't set right with Danny.

"How was I supposed to know she was your niece?" he demanded.

"Honestly Daniel, what do you-"

"They were just trying to help..."

Vlad looked at the girl, who was staring back at him with pleading eyes.

"Abigail," he said, somewhat sternly, "I am calling my chauffeur. It shouldn't take him long to get here, and then we are _leaving."_

Fable's eyes widened. Had he been searching for her on _foot? He must have really been worried. She looked at the ground and bit her lip at the thought._

Vlad suppressed a smirk and lifted the girl's face to look up into his own.

"Say goodbye to Daniel and his friends, and then join me over there," he pointed to the street. "We'll discuss this more on the way home, hmm?"

Fable nodded and turned back to the other three. Vlad took out his phone, but kept one ear open to what they were saying.

Fable cringed when she saw the confused looks on her new friend's faces. Sam in particular.

"You're Vlad Masters' niece?" she inquired, the feelings of betrayal evident in her voice.

"I… I guess so," Fable replied. "I mean… I don't remember but… he seems to know me."

They seemed to relax a little at that. She smiled weakly.

"Fable, I don't think you should go with him," said Danny, "Vlad, he's-"

"The only person who seems to know anything about me," the girl replied. "I mean, who knows, maybe he even knows how to fix this… this ghost thingy."

Danny shook his head fervently.

"Don't ask him to do that," he said. "Don't ask _anyone to do that, but especially not _him."__

Vlad frowned. Whatever did the boy mean by that? Honestly, why would he even consider getting rid of the girl's ghost powers? No, the only thing he would be 'fixing' was her apparent aversion to them.

Fable raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Alright," she said with a slight smirk, "I guess we'll just have to get together for more flying lessons then."

"Yeah, if Vlad even lets you out of the house," Sam snorted.

"Sam, guys," Fable sighed. "Please. I- I don't really have a choice. Right now he's the only clue I have. He's all I've got."

Danny frowned, "Fable-"

"Just be careful," said Sam.

"Thanks guys," the girl replied, "for everything."

"Just don't turn evil on us, okay?" said Tucker.

Fable laughed.

"Why would I turn evil?" she asked.

"Well, because Vlad-"

"Abigail?"

It took a moment for Fable to realize that she was being spoken to. She turned and saw Vlad regarding her with an impatient look.

"I guess that's my cue to go," she said. "I'll see you guys around, okay?" she flashed them a parting smile before running to catch up with her 'uncle'.

"Does anyone here believe Vlad has a niece?" asked Sam.

"No," said Danny, "In fact, I'd be willing to bet this is the first time Vlad has ever met Fable."

"But why was he looking for her?" mused Sam.

"Maybe she's another clone," Tucker suggested. Sam shook her head.

"I don't think so," she replied, "Fable doesn't look anything like Danny. Danielle at least had Danny's eyes and hair."

"Well, I don't think there's much we can do about it right now," said Tucker.

"Maybe we can still find something at the school," Danny suggested.

"Well, it's a bit late now," said Tucker, checking the time on his PDA. "Mom wants me home by 9:30 tonight."

"Tomorrow's Saturday," said Sam, "Maybe we could go first thing in the morning."

Danny nodded.

"We'll have to," he said. "Whatever Vlad's up to, it _can't be good."_

* * *

><p>AN: So glad I watched Boxed Up Fury before posting this chapter. The initial draft had Sam just as clueless as Danny with regards to Icarus. Goes to show ya, re-eesearch!

For those of you who read my dearly departed Helter Skelter story, and for others who were involved in Sholela toward the end, you might notice that I have an affinity for using amnesiacs, or generally clueless people in my writing. Honestly? It's just so much more fun when your main character doesn't _know anything. ^_^ There's a lot more exploring and character tortur- I mean development... yes, _development to work with. ^_^__

Bandersnatch: She is so-oo mental!

Phyllis: YOUR FAULT! ~rocking back and forth~ Hmm, hm-hmm ^_^

By the by, there's a particular nod to my youngest sister here. A quote from her favorite cooking show. If you can guess who the host is, I give cyber cookies! ^_^

In other news, a bright shiny button has appeared at the bottom of this screen. ^_^ Constructive criticism is, of course, always welcome! ^_^


	3. Learning My Name and Other Oddities

Phyllis: Well, I'm back. Sorry about the long wait. I was pretty busy what with school, work, helping Bowser clean out his moat-

Bandersnatch: _Helping_? That oversized turtle didn't do squat! Do you know how utterly disgusting that moat is?

Phyllis: Yeah… apparently the council is _quite_ interested in this story. Speaking of which, they (the council) have asked me to make it abundantly clear to you all that they do _not_ exist. They are (in their own words) a mere figment of my imagination, and I am not to speak of them as if they do, in fact, exist.

Now, with _that_ out of the way, on to reviews! ^_^

Akane Kuran: Good to hear from ya! Writing again? Why yes, yes I am. ^_^

CMoon: Torture? Me? Never! ~hides stolen Fenton Stockades~

Vamps: (that's you dear beta) Rather perceptive aren't we?

Ellenar Ride: Why thank you ^_^ Hope the opinion remains.

ShiningDarkness: Hmm… think I'm going to call you Shiny (if you're all right with that) Well, your wish is granted. Here is chapter 2!

Raini: Oh... My... ZigZag! You totally made my day! ^_^ And I totally loved writing the flying bit; particularly Tucker's hand in it. Rebecca asked me not to go into detail about what _actually_ happened in that moment, but let's just say, it wasn't pretty.

MiniHayden: Hold on a sec ~gushes~ hee hee, your name. The imagery. It's sooo cute! ^_^ As to the AGO question, the council (that doesn't exist) has asked me to cite for you paragraph 4 section C of the AGO handbook. Ahem.

All formal requests for AGO status (IE: asking aloud or in writing the question "Can I be an AGO?) will be carefully reviewed by various members of the council and, on a case by case basis, you may or may not be selected for the aforementioned task.

If you meant something else by your question, I will have a statement of my own posted at the bottom of this chapter.

Also, wanted to mention briefly that Vlad's training room and the ghost physics used in this story are borrowed, with permission, from the stories written by Pearl84. Meant to mention that in the last chapter ~oops~ If you haven't read any of her DP fics, I recommend you do so ^_^, and while you're at it, check out my beta's (Vampirefrootloopsrule) Cirque du Freak/Danny Phantom crossover. One word my friends, ROCKIN'!

Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom, or Ghost Physics, Vlad's Training room or Phantasmagoria. Those who do, Rock. Period.

* * *

><p>Fable stood quietly beside her uncle, looking out at the few trees lining the street. They were all dressed up for fall, beautifully adorned with reds, golds, oranges and even violets. Looking at the trees was certainly better than looking at her uncle. She really didn't know what to say to him. A million questions raced through her mind, but she couldn't really settle on one, and she hardly knew what to expect from him. He obviously wasn't happy about her 'running off'. She wondered just why she had left the train station. Not that she remembered being there in the first place. Was he angry with her for it? Did she do this often?<p>

Vlad looked at her as she made every effort to avoid his gaze. She looked like a small frightened child. How old was she? She was certainly older than Daniel. 18? 19? No, that wouldn't do. He needed her younger, or at least to _think_ she was younger.

Seeing her shift uncomfortably, he laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She stiffened, but then relaxed, considerably. It was strange. The touch seemed to settle her, as if every small part of her being had been moving at an incredible rate and had, all of a sudden, decided to rest. Really, she had needed it though. Words were nice, but the tangibility of her uncle's hand on her shoulder, it was real; an irrefutable fact in a world in which she knew virtually nothing.

Vlad looked at the girl curiously. It seemed that, in a single motion, he had given her all she had needed.

_Well, perhaps not _all, he thought as the girl looked up at him with wet eyes.

"U-uncle Vlad?"

"We'll talk about it on the way home," he assured her. She nodded silently and resumed studying the scenery. Thankfully they were not a great distance from his office, so it didn't take long for his chauffeur to arrive. Abigail's eyes widened at the sight of the limousine, but said nothing as the chauffeur, whose name was Thomas, exited and, addressing her uncle as "Mayor Masters," opened the door for them. He gave the girl a very curious glance, but was stopped by a stern look from his employer before he could ask about the wings.

Abigail entered the vehicle and curled up into the corner. Her uncle was the mayor? Well, it explained the clothes, and the limo. She sighed. There was so much to learn.

"Abigail?"

She looked up at her uncle, now sitting across from her, his dark blue eyes burning into her grey ones.

"Why did you not meet me at the station?" he asked, "it's dangerous for you to be out in your present state. What if you had run into one of those idiot Guys in White?"

Abigail frowned. Guys in White? The name sounded familiar but…

"Were you afraid I wouldn't understand?" the man continued. "That I would shun you as some sort of freak as your father did? I assure you Abigail, I understand far more than you realize."

Abigail chewed on that for a moment. So… her father had shunned her. That didn't sound right. But her uncle didn't have any reason to lie to her, so it must be the truth. Her uncle… obviously she had made him worry. She hadn't meant to, or had she? She had somehow ended up at Danny's school. How? Was she running away as her uncle seemed to think? He said he understood. He really did seem to care, but there was still one thing he didn't know.

"Uncle Vlad?" she said, voice trembling.

Vlad smirked.

"Yes Abigail?"

And then, to his surprise, the girl began to sob, tears streaming down her face and shaking uncontrollably. The older hybrid frowned. He had not expected this, not at all. A confused apology perhaps, but this deep, unabashed display of sorrow, nay, anguish?

"I… I'm sorry Uncle Vlad!" she choked out, hiding her face in her hands.

"It's alright Abigail," he tried to assure her, "we'll just-" but he could tell she wasn't hearing him. She was far too wrapped up in her own emotional dilemma. "Abigail?... Abigail!" Certainly the girl was going to hyperventilate if she kept this up much longer. Vlad pinched the bridge of his nose. What had he gotten himself into? He remembered the girl's reaction to his touch earlier. It was an odd reaction for someone she'd only just met, even if he had told her he was her uncle. He looked at the still crying girl.

Well, it was certainly worth trying.

He moved to the seat next to her and put his hand on her shoulder. Instantly her breathing slowed and became more normal. What had happened to make her so oddly sensitive? Was it part of the creature's punishment, or was she just naturally this way?

Abigail began to wipe at her face, as if to rub away all traces of her sudden outburst. She looked up at Vlad, who looked back at her with concern. She looked back down at the floorboards. She had only worried him further. She bit her trembling lip at the thought.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. Vlad squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.

"You had something you wanted to tell me Abigail?"

She nodded, biting her lip. What she had to say, she was sure it would only worry him even more, but she couldn't hide it from him forever. He needed to know. He deserved to know.

"I don't remember," she said softly.

"Remember what?" Vlad asked with feigned innocence.

"Anything!" She blurted, beginning to cry again. "I don't remember who I am, how I got here, how I ended up with my..." what had her uncle called it? "My _condition_. I... I don't even remember you!"

Vlad frowned. He couldn't help feeling a little sorry for the girl. Acclimating to the ghost DNA alone had to be taking its toll on her, then to not be able to remember anything?

"Y- you're not upset?"

Vlad looked over at the girl. She had stopped crying, but her eyes were still wet with tears.

"Of course not dear child," he replied, "how can I possibly be upset with you? Surely you didn't do this to yourself."

Abigail bit her lip thoughtfully.

"It... it's hard," she said, "I didn't even know my own name until you started calling me Abigail," she looked up at him, "that is my name, right?"

Vlad grinned.

"As of today," he said, "you're name is Abigail Madeline _Masters_."

"As of today?" Abigail echoed. "And, wait, isn't Masters _your_ name? I thought you said my mom-"

"Yes, well, I had hoped it would be more of a surprise," Vlad replied. "I convinced the courts to permit me to adopt you. The final papers should arrive in a few days."

"Adopt me?" the girl replied, "But... wait, how old am I?"

"16," Vlad replied. He looked at the girl again. Hmm... It was a bit of a stretch, but it would do.

"16?" the girl breathed, "I thought for sure I was older than that."

"So do a lot of people," Vlad intoned.

"But why adopt me?"

"Dear girl," Vlad replied with a self-satisfied chuckle, "did you not think that, once I had you, I would not do everything in my power to ensure that your fool of a father could not take you away from me, hmm?"

Abigail jerked away at that.

"Don't say that about my father," she intoned darkly.

Vlad looked back at her with mild surprise. He found it easier to tell the girl what was necessary for her to trust him by pretending she was Daniel, but apparently he'd gone a tad too far. Whoever her father was, she still held affection for him, even with the memory of him gone. He made a mental note to tread lightly where the matter was concerned.

"Forgive me, Abigail," he said, sighing for effect, "I'm afraid it is difficult for me to hold my tongue with regards to your father. Knowing the way he treated you after the accident-"

"The one that caused my, uh... _condition_?" Abigail inquired.

Vlad smiled in amusement. "We are in my private car Abigail," he said, "so you can stop using that term. You are half ghost my dear and, although it was unfortunate that the accident occurred that made you so, there is still much good that can come of it."

Abigail was about to reply when she felt her arm go through the car door. Vlad quickly yanked her back through and covered her mouth with his hand before she could scream, which she naturally did.

"We'll have to fix that," he sighed.

_No kidding,_ Abigail thought grimly.

They didn't talk much after that. Abigail sat away from the door, which put her a little closer to Vlad than he was particularly comfortable with, but since he was playing the part of the concerned uncle, he couldn't really move.

_I just hope she doesn't make a habit of it,_ he thought.

Truth be told, Abigail wasn't entirely comfortable either, but the slightly awkward proximity to her uncle was far better than the prospect of falling out of the car.

They sat that way until the car stopped and, Abigail's curiosity getting the better of her, she moved closer to the window and looked out of it.

That _couldn't_ be it. That white, monstrous, many windowed structure could _not_ be her uncle's home. Sure he was mayor, but this house, it was enormous!

"Abigail?"

The girl turned to find her uncle, already out of the car, smirking at her in amusement.

"Are you going to stare at the neighbor's house all day?" he asked, "or are you going to come in?"

_Neighbors_, Abigail thought with a sort of relieved sigh as she climbed out of the car. Heaven knew she wouldn't know what to do in a house that-

Then she saw it, the house her uncle was causally making his way to now. It was-

Big.

At least as big as the other, if not bigger, but taller rather than wider, and violet in color with great double doors, bay windows, portal windows, a massive chimney-

_A princess could have lived here_, she thought, _an insanely rich Gothic princess._

Vlad turned when he realized he wasn't being followed. He smiled at the girl's utterly bewildered look. If this house baffled her, he would love to see what she thought of his home in Wisconsin.

Sensing her uncle's eyes on her, Abigail turned her attention away from the house, and back to Vlad. Realizing the distance he had managed to cover while she had stood gawking like an idiot, she raced to match it.

"This is where you live?" she asked.

"I'll admit it's not as nice as my castle in Wisconsin," Vlad replied, "but it suits my needs."

Abigail's eyes widened. Her uncle owned a castle? Just how rich was he? She didn't ask of course, but she couldn't help wondering.

Vlad cocked an eyebrow in amusement at the girl, then opened the door. Abigail's jaw dropped as she entered the front hall. Huge chandeliers, on a massive ceiling, walls that stretched into infinity, the enormity of it all nearly sent her into a very cartoonish faint. Realizing Vlad was walking ahead of her again, Abigail plucked off her shoes and followed.

And the carpet, o-ooh, she could have slept on it, it was so soft. The whole place, it really felt like a palace.

_A palace dedicated to my uncle Vlad_, she thought sardonically, catching sight of a large colonial style portrait, complete with a pair of golden busts of the same man.

Vlad turned and rolled his eyes. They wouldn't get out of the front hall before nightfall at this rate. He smiled though when he saw what it was she was looking at.

_If she only knew what was behind it_, he thought, _Ah, well, there will be plenty of time for that later._

Abigail looked up at him, giving him a weak smile when she realized she was falling behind again. He returned the smile, then cocked an eyebrow in amusement as he took note of the girl's socked feet.

_Well, I suppose I won't have to worry about her tracking anything into the house._

Curious, Abigail looked down, first at her own feet, then at Vlad's still shod ones. She flushed in embarrassment. Vlad couldn't help laughing.

"Oh Abigail," he said. The child was an unending source of amusement.

"Meow."

Abigail looked as a large white cat sauntered into the room. It looked at her, at first with suspicion, then mere disinterest as it began to affectionately rub against Vlad's legs.

"Oh, a cat!" Abigail observed.

"She's my sister's cat," Vlad stated on impulse.

"Wait, you mean my mom?" Abigail asked curiously.

"Butter-biscuits!"" Vlad muttered. He hadn't thought that one through.

"The cat's name is Butterbicuits?" Abigail said with a laugh.

"What? No!" Vlad exclaimed, "That's just-" he let out a small groan and pinched the bridge of his nose. What was he to tell the girl? Certainly not the truth. He would not let it get out that Maddie, for all intents and purposes, was _his_ cat. He couldn't tell her he had another sister, because then the girl would undoubtedly want to know about her aunt, and the stories he had so far were enough to juggle as is. So how was he to explain that he was in possession of a cat, supposedly belonging to the girl's mother?

"You okay Uncle Vlad?"

Then it hit him. Of course! It was the perfect alibi. It would not only explain Maddie's presence, but also put him in a positive light and fully cut off any possible need for the girl to visit her 'mother'.

"I'm sorry Abigail," he said, picking up the cat and stroking its fur, "I had... forgotten you wouldn't remember, and if I didn't feel you deserved to know, I would keep it that way."

"Know what?" Abigail inquired, a bit nervous at his tone.

"Abigail, your mother, well," he sighed, "she is no longer with us."

Abigail's eyes widened.

"She's... she's dead?"

Vlad nodded solemnly.

"She died a little over a year ago," he informed her, "the accident, well, let's wait a while to talk about that hmm?"

Abigail nodded.

"In any case," Vlad continued, "Your mother knew your father would not allow you to keep a cat, so she left Maddie to me."

"Maddie's a much better name than Butterbiscuits," said Abigail. She reached over to pet the cat, but it jumped out of Vlad's hands before she could touch her.

"_Maddie_," Vlad scolded.

"I don't think she likes me very much," Abigail muttered, noting the somewhat wary look the cat was giving her.

"She probably doesn't recognize you wearing those feathered appendages," Vlad suggested with a smirk.

Abigail looked at the wings in surprise. She had completely forgotten about them. How had she forgotten? They only stretched out, what, a foot from her fingertips? They felt so natural, but still, was she _that_ preoccupied?

"I've been meaning to ask you about them," Vlad said casually. "A bit early for Halloween isn't it?"

Abigail blushed. Was it? What month was it? Sometime in fall, she knew that much.

She was broken from her thoughts when Vlad took hold of her wrist, lifting her arm to inspect the wings.

"They are incredibly authentic," Vlad mused, "down to the bees-wax, and the feathers certainly appear to be real..." He let go of the girl's arm and looked back at her with an innocent smile.

"How did you come by them?"

Of course, he _knew_ essentially how she had "come by them." but any insight as to what _she_ thought had happened would ultimately be helpful.

Abigail gave him an apologetic smirk.

"I don't' think you'd believe me if I told you."

Vlad folded his arms with a smirk that relayed quite clearly that he was not letting the matter go.

"Try me."

Abigail sighed.

"Alright," she said, "Danny was trying to teach me how to fly, uh, with my ghost powers." she cringed, suddenly wondering if Vlad knew Danny was half-ghost. Was she supposed to tell him that? "Anyway," she continued, "I ended up telling him the story of Icarus-"

"Ah, you _have_ been reading those books I sent you" Vlad interjected.

Abigail blushed.

"Um, well, I uh, got to the part where I was describing the wings and, well," she raised one arm in demonstration.

"So these are Icarus's wings," Vlad said.

"Well, Abigail replied, "they are how I had imagined them."

_It appears I was correct_, Vlad mused, _The girl quite literally_ imagined _them into existence. If she can do this with other things-_ his mind reeled with the possibilities.

"Do you think they'll work?" he inquired.

Abigail studied one of the wings for a moment.

"No."

"Really," Vlad replied with interest, "and why not?"

"Well," Abigail replied thoughtfully, "I'm too heavy. They'd have to be a lot bigger to support me in the air."

Vlad nodded. So the girl had a basic knowledge of aerodynamics. Interesting.

"Follow me," he commanded, "and," he smirked, "do try to keep up, hmm?"

Abigail blushed, but nodded, following. She managed too keep up for the most part after that, at least until her legs phased through the floor, but Vlad lifted her out easily, and they continued on in silence. Eventually their trek led them to a set of stairs going down. Odd, where they were going, it didn't look like a basement, or at least, what Abigail _thought_ a basement should look like. The stairs were smooth cut stone, and there were walls, real painted walls. The stairs, which seemed to go on forever, finally ended in a small room with a red tile floor and two large metal doors with hand locks. Vlad walked over to the leftmost door and placed his hand against the lock. There was a soft beep of recognition, and then a loud click as the lock undid itself.

Vlad opened the door and motioned for Abigail to enter. The room was fairly small, and mostly empty. Its main feature was a large console riddled with a plethora of buttons, knobs, and lights she didn't bother to comprehend. There were a couple screens set into the console displaying various streams of data; and she didn't try to understand that either. A large window was set above the console, but the room beyond it was dark, so she couldn't be sure what it was for.

Vlad walked over to the console, and pressed a couple of buttons. Abigail jumped when a door in the wall behind her suddenly opened into the now lit 'other' room.

"Wait for me in there," Vlad directed her, "I'll only be a moment."

Abigail nodded somewhat nervously and entered. The room was about the size of a professional tennis court, completely unfurnished, with white walls and a tremendously high ceiling. The sheer size and emptiness of it made her dizzy. She now understood why it had taken so long to get down here.

"White walls, white floor, nothing I can hurt myself on," Abigail mused, "It appears my uncle had decided that I am certifiably crazy."

Vlad entered a moment later, noting the bemused look on his face, Abigail wondered if he had not heard what she said.

"Begin default training program level 0," he commanded.

"**Default training initiated."**

Suddenly the door behind them vanished, leaving no trace that it had ever been there. Suddenly very nervous, Abigail backed up a few steps. This did not escape Vlad's notice.

"Abigail," he said seriously, "If I were going to harm you, would I not have done so already?"

Abigail offered him a weak smile, sheepishly running a hand through her hair. Knowing she had seen the logic in his query, Vlad smirked.

"Now as you have surmised," he began, "your wings are much too small to support you in flight. While we _could_ make an attempt to increase your wingspan, I believe it would be simpler to simply _decrease_ your weight or, to be more accurate, _density_.

Abigail frowned. How on earth would _that_ be easier?

"Morph."

Abigail blinked.

"Into what?"

Vlad sighed. It was going to be a long evening.

"Your ghost form," he clarified.

Abigail's mouth made an "o". Vlad watched as she closed her eyes. A moment later, a pair of grey spectral rings washed over her, causing her to nearly fall over. Vlad frowned. He couldn't recall any instance where that had happened to him. What had that Buchara creature done to the girl? He took a good look at the girl's ghost form. She really looked like something out of one of those medieval fantasy novels. It seemed oddly appropriate. The wings themselves had not changed except that they now possessed the same ghostly aura that the girl herself now had.

He wondered again how all of this had come about for the girl. Both he and Daniel's appearance had been largely affected by what they had been wearing at the time, or so he had always supposed. True he had later decided to alter his ghost half's appearance, after all, a skinny ghost in a lab coat was hardly intimidating, but the initial result was the same. Where had the creature picked this girl up, a costume party?

"Uncle Vlad?"

"Hmm?"

"Um… what now?"

"Ah yes, I'm sorry, I was just-" His eyebrow hitched in curiosity. "Do you typically lose your balance when morphing?"

Abigail grinned sheepishly.

"Mhmm… We'll have to check into that later." He sighed before continuing. "When you are in human form," he began, "you are primarily solid matter. When you transition to your ghost form however, that changes. Your molecules begin to move more rapidly, and much of your body becomes something more akin to energy rather than matter. This is what causes the slight tingling sensation whenever you morph."

_More like a jolt, _thought Abigail.

"So... if my molecules are moving faster, I'm less dense, right?"

"Precisely," Vlad grinned, pleased to see she was catching on.

"So I just use the wings to sort of, push the air under me, kind of like swimming."

"Hmm… a crude, yet probable speculation," Vlad replied.

Abigail lifted her wings, first one, then the other. She gave an experimental flap, then sighed.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know how to start."

Vlad sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. How on earth was he supposed to explain to the girl how to use wings _she_ had created from her own imagination? He blinked.

… Her _imagination_…

"Abigail," he began, "you did say these wings came out _just_ as you had _imagined_ them yes?"

"Well yeah, but-"

"May I suggest," Vlad continued, "That you try to _imagine_ how Icarus would have flown?"

Abigail blinked. It was crazy, but the way the rest of her day had gone, it couldn't hurt to try. She closed her eyes and began running through the story where she had left off.

"Daedelus gave one of the wings to his son Icarus," she muttered, "and taught him how to fly. Finally, one beautiful warm day, they were ready. Daedelus warned his son not to fly too high, lest the sun's heat melt the wax, causing him to lose his feathers. Icarus listened impatiently and said he understood. Finally, the two of them took to the skies!"

She could swear that, as she said that, she felt her feet leave the ground, but of course that was-

"Well done!"

Abigail opened her eyes and saw her uncle, quietly applauding her efforts from the ground below… waaaay below! Abigail gave a startled cry and nearly fell. Thankfully she had enough of her wits about her to right herself, furiously flapping her wings to keep balance.

"How do I get down?" she called out nervously.

"What do you mean?" Vlad asked with a frown. She'd only just gotten up there.

"Well," Abigail shouted, already beginning to grow tired from flapping, "Icarus… doesn't technically ever… actually… land…"

Vlad facepalmed.

"Then be Daedelus," he advised.

"But they're Icarus's wings!"

Vlad sighed in exasperation.

"They are Icarus's wings because you _imagined_ yourself as Icarus. If you imagine yourself as Daedalus then, theoretically you should be able to act as he did."

"Theoretically?" Abigail exclaimed. "You want me to act on _theoretically_?"

"Abigail, calm down!" Vlad shouted as the girl began to fly back and forth around the room in a sort of aerial version of pacing. "You'll only tire yourself further. If you would just- oh peanut brittle!" he growled, realizing she wasn't listening. Apparently the only way to bring her down would be for him to go up. He had hoped to delay revealing his ghost half to the girl until a more opportune moment should arise. Until the child trusted him just enough that the revelation would only deepen rather than hamper that trust. It appeared that fortune was not with him on this one. The girl was liable to fall if she kept this up. Well, if he had to do it now, he might as well make a good show of it.

He sighed before transforming into Plasmius and flying up to the girl's level.

Abigail screeched as what appeared to be a glowing blue vampire entered her field of vision. She lost her momentum and would have surely fallen had the "vampire" not managed to catch her around the waist.

Vlad rolled his eyes as the still frightened girl flailed in his arms. He brought them both back down, gently setting the girl on the ground before changing back into his human form, giving Abigail a very stern look.

Abigail gasped and scooted back a little.

"Y-you-" she stammered, "You're... y-you're?"

"A half ghost, like you? Of course," Vlad replied. "How else would I know so much about your "condition"? Why else would I have a ghost proof training room built right in the middle of my basement? Honestly Abigail, did you really think I would tell you to do something dangerous if I wasn't certain I could protect you if it went badly?"

Abigail hung her head sadly. This man, her uncle, was taking her in, choosing to take care of her, and already she had doubted his ability to do so.

Vlad helped her up and began untying the ribbons holding the wings to her arms.

"You did well," he intoned.

"Yeah," Abigail scoffed, "I'm the only ghost in the universe that needs wings to fly, and even then I can't land!"

Vlad chuckled in amusement.

"That is entirely untrue."

"What are you talking about?" Abigail demanded. "That just now? That has been my _only_ experience with flying, and it wasn't exactly a stellar performance!"

"True," Vlad agreed, "but it wasn't your wings that enabled your flight."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Think back a moment Abigail," said Vlad. "Your takeoff, the flight itself, was there anything aerodynamically accurate about it?"

Abigail thought a moment. She really shouldn't have been able to stay so still in the air. There should have at least been some sort of rise and fall as she used her wings to "tread air" as it were.

"So how did I do it?" she asked.

"As I told you before Abigail," Vlad folded Abigail's wings, tucking them under his arm, "when you transition to your ghost form, your entire genetic makeup transforms. When the ghost DNA attached itself to your own, it created a ghost core which, by some miracle, reacts symbiotically with your heart to create both ectoplasm and ecto-energy while you are in ghost form. When in human form, your heart produces blood as before and your core becomes dormant, although you can access its energy even then as evidenced by your ability to phase through objects even as human."

"Okay, but how did I _do it_?"

Vlad smirked at the girl's impatience. "I am getting to that," he assured her. "Now, your ghost core provides you with ecto-energy and is the source of your powers. The three basic, most natural ghost abilities are intangibility, which you have experienced multiple times, invisibility, which we will get to later, and flight. Given these facts, as well as the matter that your method of using those wings was an aerodynamic impossibility, we can only assume that you were kept aloft, not by your wings, but rather your ghost powers."

Abigail frowned in confusion.

"So… why did I fall when I stopped using the wings?"

"You stopped flying," Vlad replied simply. "At first glance Abigail, you appear to be completely lacking in ghost instinct but," he tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I am beginning to wonder if your natural abilities aren't simply tied to your imaginative abilities. In any case, since the wings obviously served only as aesthetics, _theoretically_ you should be able to accomplish the same goal without their aid."

Abigail bit her lip and tugged at her hair thoughtfully. She was about to ask another question, but yawned instead.

"We'll pick this up tomorrow," said Vlad, "end program."

"**Default program terminated."**

Abigail watched as the doorway reappeared. She had nearly forgotten it was there. She followed Vlad into the control room.

"Do you intend to stay in your ghost form the entire evening?" Vlad asked with a smirk.

Abigail blushed and returned to her human form, completely falling over with a startled cry. Vlad couldn't help but laugh.

"We have got to work on your balance," he chuckled.

Abigail gave a tired groan and followed her uncle up the stairs. Suddenly Vlad stopped, Abigail nearly ran into him.

"Abigail," said her uncle, "are you hungry?"

OoOoO

Abigail couldn't believe the size of the kitchen. You could make, well _anything_ in here! Two stand mixers, a double oven, flat top grill, granite counters… It was chef heaven! And if that was hard to believe, it was even stranger to see her uncle doing the cooking. It hadn't occurred to her until now, but the only person she'd yet seen that could be labeled 'servant' had been Thomas. Weren't places like this usually crawling with them?

She looked into the pan her uncle was currently using. The man had said 'something simple'. Whatever this was, she hardly called it 'simple'. Chicken, onions, tomatoes, garlic, at least two other vegetables she couldn't quite identify, was that wine? Well, whatever it was, it smelled delicious.

Vlad took the pan off of the stove and served its contents onto two glass plates on a small table. Abigail was glad they weren't using the main dining hall. She would have hated sitting at that massively long table. It just looked so empty. What it needed was a family. A great big family with lots of aunts, uncles, cousins… She looked at her uncle Vlad curiously.

"Uncle Vlad?""

"Hmm?"

"Do I have any other uncles or aunts?"

Vlad looked at the girl in surprise. He'd been expecting the questions to start any moment. Actually, he was kind of surprised it had taken her this long to start, but he was even more perplexed that she had started with such an odd query. Still, it was probably one of the easiest he would have to answer, and Vlad Masters was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"No," he replied simply, "Your mother and I had no siblings, nor did your father, and before you ask, I am afraid your grandparents have moved on as well." He fought a smirk. "We're all that's left."

The gravity of the statement struck a hollow chord in Abigail's chest, but she fought to keep a brave face, for her uncle's sake.

"Then we'll have to be sure and take care of each other," she said.

Vlad blinked in surprise at the statement, then began to laugh.

"Dear girl," he said, "you let me take care of that."

Abigail returned with a genuine smile. Uncle Vlad really wanted to take care of her. He might be her uncle, but that didn't mean she wouldn't find a way to take care of him too.

Any other questions on the girl's mind were momentarily suppressed as she took her first bite of the chicken. She hadn't, up to that moment, realized just how hungry she was, plus the food was _delicious_!

Vlad watched in amusement as she shoveled in forkfuls of vegetables.

"I see you still enjoy Chicken Marengo," he said, "but then, you always did favor my cooking."

Abigail paused a moment, swallowing.

"Uncle Vlad, how of-" she paused, trying to think of how to word the question. "Did I come here a lot?"

"Here, no," Vlad returned, "I didn't move to Amity until after your mother died. Before then you would visit me in Wisconsin for about three weeks in the summer while your parents went on vacation.

"What about Thanksgiving and Christmas?" Abigail asked, thinking of the lonely table.

"Of course," Vlad replied, "I simply thought you meant by yourself."

"What did we do in the summer?" Abigail asked, her mind suddenly beginning to roll with questions.

Vlad cringed inwardly. Why all these questions about _him_? What would he be likely to do with the girl for three whole weeks?

"Honestly Abigail, you cannot expect me to list every single activity we engaged in during your multiple stays at my castle," he said. "To be honest, I was usually fairly busy. You spent most of your time holed up in my library."

"I like to read."

Vlad could tell from her expression that it was more realization than inquiry. She took another bite of chicken, chewing thoughtfully.

"Phantasmagoria"

Vlad hitched an eyebrow in confusion.

"Beg pardon?"

Abigail smiled. "It's my favorite poem."

"_One winter night, at half-past nine,  
>cold, tired, and cross, and muddy,"<em>

Vlad frowned. Was she reciting?

"Abigail, what are you-"

_"I had come home too late to dine,  
>and supper, with cigars and wine,<br>was waiting in the study._"

Vlad's frown deepened when he noticed the girl's eyes turn purple. He stood, preparing for heaven knew what.

_"There was a strangeness in the room,  
>and something white and wavy<br>was-_"

Abigail stopped abruptly when she felt her arm suddenly go through the table, taking her head down with it chin first smack onto the table with a force that rattled her teeth. Vlad sighed, relieved that the event had halted whatever the girl had been preparing to do, but also concerned about this other problem. He could hardly have the girl falling through the ceilings and such. She was likely to discover something he'd really prefer she _didn't_ see. Perhaps it would have been prudent to work on her intangibility instead of examining her "talents", but even that would not have improved things too much. Even under his guidance Danielle had taken-

Danielle! Of course!"

Abigail groaned, blinking the tears out of her eyes. At the feel of her uncle's hand on her shoulder, she looked up to find he was smirking at her.

"Having trouble again are we?" he asked.

Abigail returned with an irritated pout.

"Finish your chicken," he continued, "I will return shortly."

Abigail sighed and sat up, rubbing her sore jaw.

"Oh, and Abigail?"

"Yeah?"

"Do try not to fall through the floor while I'm gone hm?"

Abigail rolled her eyes. The teasing? Yeah, not her favorite thing.

OoOoO

_Vlad Masters, what are you thinking_?

Vlad sighed as he entered his private study. The question had come to him no less than three times since he had left the kitchen. Rarely did he do something without some sort of plan, some goal in mind. What was he going to do with the girl? Train her certainly, but for what purpose? It would take time to train her, and that meant time away from his other endeavors. Would it be worth it?

Vlad chuckled. Of _course_ it would. How could it not? Surely he could train the girl to easily surpass Daniel in ability. The boy would certainly see the value of joining him, he would_ beg_ to join him, and after he had the boy in his grasp, the mother would only be a step behind.

He reached into the drawer and pulled out a small flat box. Even if not, he was sure he could find other ways to make the girl useful to him. He stood, pocketing the box. Then he noticed a large yellow envelope lying on his desk with MASTERS written on the front, not in his hand. Had that been there before? No matter, he would attend to it later. He turned to retrieve the girl's bag to avoid having to make a second trip and found a stack of books where Buchara had earlier left the one.

Yes. He frowned. He was _sure_ it had only been one... That meant someone had entered his private study... _again_. He looked back at the envelope and picked it up, opening it without hesitation and pulled out the first page.

_Dear Masters,_

_The council would like to express their gratitude to you for taking responsibility for the young girl now in your custody. Your methods intrigue us and we, the council, have made the unanimous decision to provide you with some material we believe will aid you in your endeavors to keep the child. Rest assured that all of these documents have been fully processed in your governments system to their naive satisfaction.  
>We will hereafter refrain from any interference for the duration of this sentencing.<em>

_Sincerely,  
>Oshkavara<br>Supreme Head of the Author's Guild Council._

_Your methods? Your government?_ What was the meaning of it? Vlad removed the remaining documents from the envelope. A birth certificate, social security card, medical records, and adoption papers; each record printed with the name Abigail Madeline Smith. Apparently the council was not very creative. The adoption papers recorded the change from Smith to Masters. There was also a copy of the medical records, almost identical except for a couple of changes. First, the name was different. Rebecca Ann Bennett instead of Abigail, second, the date was set two years earlier. Obviously this was the girl's original records. Vlad supposed they had sent it to set his mind at ease as to the validity of the documents, but he could hardly be expected to be at ease when there were creatures entering his house without detection. He did _not_ like being on this side of a deal. He was going to find out just what these creatures were and do whatever it took to ensure they did not meddle with him again.

He replaced the documents and placed the envelope in the top drawer of his desk. He would file the documents later. He turned to pick up the bag again, choosing to ignore the books for now, and headed back toward the kitchen.

OoOoO

When he returned he found the girl seated on the floor attempting to tempt a disinterested Maddie with a piece of ribbon. She had left her chair out, but her plate was gone, so had she? He looked in the sink. No, of course she hadn't.

"Abigail, we have a dishwasher."

Abigail looked up and blushed.

"Sorry Uncle Vlad."

"I'll take care of it later," Vlad replied. "Would you like to see your room?"

Maddie and the ribbon were quickly forgotten at this prospect. She stood to her feet and grinned widely.

"Definitely."

OoOoO

Picking the room had actually been fairly easy. There were only two master bedrooms and the second was only a few rooms down from his own. Close enough to keep an eye on the girl, far enough not to be disturbed by her.

Abigail gawked at the enormity of the room. A great cherry four poster bed stood in one corner with comforters she was certain rivaled the ones the queen had used for the lost princess's bed in The Princess and the Pea. A matching dresser stood to one wall, great, gorgeous cherry wood desk to another. The floor was some other sort of dark wood and marked here and there with rugs. She exhaled slowly.

"Is it to your liking?"

Abigail nodded.

"Then perhaps you would like to go in and unpack your things," the billionaire suggested, handing her the duffel bag.

Abigail smiled.

"Thanks Uncle Vlad," she said.

Vlad just smiled in return. Had she been in possession of her memories Abigail, or rather, Rebecca, would have instantly recognized behind it the self satisfaction that commonly took the billionaire when things were going just according to his preferences. Really, she should have been conscious of it several times through the evening, but as she was, without the memories she was just as clueless as any other Amity Park resident save Danny and his friends.

Vlad followed her into the room, though hardly with the intent of watching her unpack. He'd already looked through the bag. It held the usual suspects. Toothpaste, toothbrush, hairbrush, five outfits; five very _pedestrian_ outfits. Apparently the so called 'Author's Council,' was capable of forging government documents, but not of providing the girl with some decent clothes. He frowned. Just one more thing to add to his 'to do' list.

Having removed the contents of the bag, Abigail looked through it again. Something was missing, she was sure of it. Something important…

"Abigail?"

She looked up momentarily from her search to find her uncle holding a small blue box and regarding her with an odd smile.

"Just one more thing before I leave you to your room," he said, handing her the box.

She opened it and took out a white, hinged bracelet about an inch and a half wide with a black stone set at what she presumed to be the top and a small keyhole at the side where the two pieces connected. Funny, no key though. She wasn't sure she cared for it. Just holding the bracelet made her feel strange.

"Wearing it disables your ghost powers," Vlad explained, "I want you to wear it to bed, and when we go out."

"Uncle Vlad, I'd really rather… I mean, it doesn't seem-"

Vlad smirked at the girl's unease. So she _did_ have some ghost instinct after all.

"It's just to keep you from phasing through everything."

"But… but I-"

Vlad was beginning to get annoyed, but rather than become disagreeable, another, rather brilliant idea suddenly came to mind. Putting it into play, he took on a sort of pained look, the sort that looks like you are trying your best not to look distressed at all, then sighed dramatically before turning away.

"Oh Abigail," he said sadly, "I suppose I can't blame you for not trusting me when you cannot even remember me... I suppose it will take time-"

"Uncle Vlad, I didn't mean-"

"And perhaps our bond will never again be what it once was."

"Uncle Vlad, I-"

"I can only hope that we will somehow salvage at least a small-"

"Uncle Vlad, look I'll wear it, okay?" Abigail exclaimed.

_Just don't be upset_, she added mentally.

She snapped the two pieces of bracelet onto her wrist and instantly felt weaker, perhaps even heavier. Her stomach went in knots and she swayed out of balance a bit before regaining her equilibrium.

Vlad quirked an eyebrow. That had never happened before. Then again the child wasn't exactly normal. Perhaps it was a side effect of whatever method the 'council' had used to turn her into a half ghost. Anyway, she seemed all right now.

"Ah, dear girl," he said, brightening instantly. "I knew you would come around."

Abigail smiled a bit weakly. She still didn't like the bracelet, but she knew it was meant only for her own good. From what she could tell, everything the man had done today had been for _her_ benefit.

_I might not have my memories, but I still have Uncle Vlad._ A knot formed in her chest at the thought and, suddenly overcome with emotion, she embraced the older hybrid.

Vlad was more than a little surprised by the sudden action, but did not hesitate to return the embrace.

"Thank you," Abigail said softly.

"You're welcome little badger," Vlad replied. Abigail looked up at him in confusion.

"Huh?"

"Little sparrow," he said quickly, "I used to call you that when you were small." He chuckled a bit nervously. "I suppose you're too old for it now."

"No," Abigail insisted, "I, uh, I like it."

"All right then," Vlad replied, quickly disengaging himself from the girl's embrace. "Sleep tight... _little sparrow_." He exited the room quickly, shutting the door behind him. That had been close. In some ways it was _too_ easy to fool the girl. Still, he needed to be more careful. It was day one and already he had slipped twice. He couldn't let her make the connection, as time spent with Daniel would undoubtedly reveal, and he intended for her to spend a great deal of time with the boy.

He took one last look at the door to what was now the girl's room, then turned to head back to his private study. There was work to be done.

OoOoO

Abigail stared after the door a moment after Vlad left. Well, that had been strange. Uncle Vlad had seemed fairly eager to leave after the subject of her old nickname had come up.

_Maybe because you didn't remember it_.

Abigail sighed. Not remembering was frustrating to say the least. Her bag for instance, she knew there was something missing from it. She was annoyed, upset really, that someone had had the gall to take it from her, but for her life she couldn't remember just what had been taken.

She sighed again, turning to put away her clothes. There wasn't really anything she could do about it. About anything really. She was utterly helpless.

_But not utterly alone_. She thought hopefully. She just had to trust that Uncle Vlad would be able to take care of her and hope that her memories would return to her soon.

She smirked at the disarray she had wrought in her dresser. More concerned about the missing "something" she hadn't bothered to refold her clothes. It was hardly a sight to befit such an elegant room. She would have to fix it later. She looked at the two extra doors in her room. Which was the closet? She tried the one nearest the dresser. Bingo. She stared into the large empty room. Long racks for hanging clothes lined the walls, though there were no hangers, and a large standing mirror with an antique silver frame stood at the end. She looked at her reflection with mild amusement. With everything that had happened to her during the day, she wasn't terribly surprised to find herself in a bit of a disheveled state. Her hair was sticking out every which way, her shirt fairly well wrinkled from the days abuse. She smiled and shut the closet door.

"Large walk-in closet with no hangers? Check," she walked toward the other door. "And behind door number 2-"

Her eyes were filled with wonder as she stared into the enormous ceramic tiled bathroom. A sink with a marble counter sat under a large vanity mirror. There was a large glass shower and a tub the size of a bed. She looked at a fluffy white robe hanging next to it and grinned. She didn't know how fond she had been of baths before, but she was definitely having one now.

She checked the cabinet for soaps but, to her disappointment there weren't any.

"Or tomorrow, tomorrow's good."

She brushed her teeth instead and, discovering she had somehow forgotten to pack pajamas, changed into a clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Not the most comfortable thing to sleep in, but it would do.

The pajamas… was that what she was missing? No… that wasn't it. Honestly though, who forgot to bring pajamas when coming to live with someone? And then, only five outfits? What had she been thinking? Did she really only have five outfits? Perhaps she had thought this was only temporary. Uncle Vlad _had_ said that the adoption was a surprise. Was her moving in with him a surprise as well? She shook her head. These were questions for tomorrow. Right now she needed sleep.

She sat down on the bed and sighed. She didn't _feel_ like sleep. There was something missing. Something she still needed to do. She sighed again and fell back on the bed, then yelped as she felt something stick into her side. She looked down to find three mechanical pencils lying on the bed beside her, forgotten from when she had realized something was missing when she unpacked. There was also a large yellow legal pad with several pages torn out All the remaining pages were blank. She wondered what she had been writing.

Her eyes widened in sudden realization. _That's_ what was missing! _That's_ what she still needed to do!

OoOoO

Vlad looked intently at the computer screen displaying various streams of data from his training room. As he had expected from his earlier observations there had been a tremendous energy spike when the girl had morphed into her ghost form, but curiously after that they seemed to level off to what he would consider normal levels for a hybrid. Possibly even more curious was that, when human, she actually carried an energy level slightly higher than he or Daniel did while in their human forms. Of course he had already surmised that it was probably just a side effect from whatever method was used to introduce the DNA into the girl's system.

How _had_ they done it anyway? He was somewhat tempted to investigate this, but in the end he could think of absolutely no good reason to turn someone into a half ghost. That was far more power than he desired anyone else to have.

In any case, the girl's DNA was probably just still adapting, the ghost core overcompensating for the unusual status of its home. It would wear off eventually.

He glanced at the clock. Midnight, well past it. It was a good thing it was Friday or, technically Saturday. There was a lot that needed done. Once word got out his 'niece' was staying with him; as it undoubtedly would, there would be questions, plenty of questions which he would have to answer. His answers would have to be carefully planned out to avoid suspicion, but Vlad could handle that. Really, the timing of the girl's appearance couldn't have been better. He had to give a speech at the Amity Park Zoo on Monday. Some nearly extinct animal had given birth and he was supposed to talk about hope for the future or some such nonsense. It would be the perfect opportunity to introduce the child. The focus would be shifted, the reporters unprepared. He, Vlad Masters, would be in control of the situation.

But the girl needed clothes, and she needed a haircut. Well, Felix could take care of the girl's hair, but where would he find a decent clothing store for her?

Then there was the matter of the girl's unique brand of ghost powers. He could only think of one other ghost he'd seen with anything like her ability, but he knew he wasn't going to get that particular ghost to come out of the ghost zone anytime soon. He did have some business in the Ghost Zone tomorrow, but he wasn't sure how he felt about bringing her along. Then again, he also wasn't sure how he felt about leaving her alone in his house. If he took her into the Ghost Zone she would be with _him._ Yes, she would be safe. That just left flying lessons. He did not intend to hold the girl's hand the entire time they were in the Ghost Zone. If he didn't play his cards right, simply having the girl along to begin with might damage his reputation.

It was settled then. He would call his secretary to ask about a clothing store. Joanne had a daughter right? He would schedule an appointment with Felix, give the girl her next lesson, and then it was her first trip into the Ghost Zone.

He was about to leave with those thoughts when he suddenly remembered the books left on his end table. He strode over and picked one up. It was about eight by six inches with a hard red cover. A date was written in the bottom corner with sharpie, followed by a dash to suggest an end date to be added later. He looked at the book under it, this one blue, and sure enough it had two dates, the second one about a month before the one he now held in his hands. A journal then? That could prove useful. He opened the book to the first page.

_This prayer journal is the property of_

_Rebecca Anne Bennett_

Vlad shut the book. This was not simply an expression of the girl's thoughts, this was her _prayers_. It seemed more wrong somehow. Like the difference in listening in on a conversation and overhearing a confession.

He had to laugh at himself. Honestly, prayer journal or otherwise, it was still journal, and he could hardly be expected to care for the girl without knowing something of her history. Besides, it might reveal the identity of the girl's prosecutors, which could only benefit them both. He opened the book again and began to read.

_Dear God,_

_Finally, a new book! Sick to death of writing on loose-leaf. That is, when I do remember. Sorry about missing that week._

_Anyway, recitals are coming up soon, so Mags keeps waking me up with the piano. Don't get me wrong, little sis' plays well, but I'd much prefer sleeping in._

_Hoping those tests come back soon. I'm really worried about Nashaya. Who knew you could actually catch a computer virus in Rendum? I'm just glad I had my author's protection so I didn't catch it too. Still, poor Nashaya._

_Anyway, I've got an early day tomorrow. Classes are starting back up and I'd hate to be late for Chemistry (insert sarcasm) Anyway, time for sleep!_

_Love,_

_Rebecca A. Bennett._

Vlad chuckled. The girl's journals would be entertaining at the very least. That bit about the computer virus had to have been a joke, although it hardly seemed appropriate considering the letter's intended recipient. There was, as far as he knew, no place called Rendum, and, when applied to computers, the word 'virus' was more or less metaphoric. He flipped over a few pages. Perhaps he would read one or two more before finally heading to bed.

OoOoO

_Dear God,_

_Today I lost my memories. Of course, you knew that already. I mean, you know everything right? I only wish I knew why this was happening. Uncle Vlad didn't seem to think it had anything to do with my new-found ghost powers. I mean, it didn't make_ him_ lose his memories did it? Or maybe it did… I don't know. That would be terrible though, I mean, it_ is _terrible. Were we, Mom and I, there to support him through it? Yeah, I'm getting ahead of myself now._

_So many questions though. Just how did I become half ghost anyway? How did I lose my memories? Where is my dad? Guess I'll just have to ask Uncle Vlad tomorrow._

_Speaking of Uncle Vlad, I just wanted to say that I am very grateful for him. I couldn't ask for a better uncle. He just seems so patient, loving, kind. I hope I start remembering soon, at least for his sake. It must hurt that I don't remember his being in my life._

_Guess we'll see._

_Love you,_

...

Abigail paused. She could not, for her life, think of how to write her name. She was sure it was spelled 'Abigail', there really was no other practical way to spell it. She had been so certain writing her name would provide the same familiarity that the action of writing itself had.

_Maybe I'm called 'Abby'._ She grimaced. No, that sounded all wrong, like calling a Rebecca 'Becky'.

She moved to a new page and experimented a few times. The A at least seemed to come naturally. A sharp, tilted A with a curl at the bottom, but it felt as if it should stop there. That didn't seem right. Why would she sign her name simply A?

_Well, _she thought, _if I can't remember how to sign my name, I'll just have to make up a new way. At least for now._

She continued to experiment on the page until she found a signature to match her satisfaction. She signed the previous page and glanced over it briefly before stowing the legal pad in the desk and climbing into bed.

She smiled. Her prayer journal, she had been so thankful to have remembered that one thing, though she couldn't quite call it a memory since she could not recall what she had written before. Still, between her uncle Vlad and this recollection, she wasn't so worried anymore. It might actually be exciting to learn things without the usual baseline. Who knew what she might discover that she would have overlooked before? It would be an adventure.

She snuggled deeper into the warm covers. Tomorrow she would explore. Uncle Vlad had said she had never been in this mansion before. Or had he? He had said she had never _stayed _at this mansion. Ah well, details. In any case, she was terribly excited to explore her home.

_Her home_.

She smiled at the thought. There was just something so special about those words.

And with that thought, she finally drifted to sleep.

* * *

><p>Phyllis: Phew! Well that went on seemingly forever. Should have the next chapter up within a couple of weeks. It's really short, so it shouldn't take long to edit. The main thing is getting around <em>life<em> to do it.

Bandersnatch: That and various punishments from the council.

Phyllis: ~cough~ yes, that too...

One last thing before I leave you to big wonderful button of awesomeness!

First off, to those of you who, by your questions, are asking if you can write an AGO story my answer is ABSOLUTELY! Would actually love to read some of them if you decide to do so. Just know that I do not read yaoi, slash, anything sexual at all, and in general not rated above T. I'd appreciate a nod to my story, but it's not necessary.

~best LeVar Burton imitation~ I'll see you next time! ~badum dum~!

Additional A/N: Just wanted to explain, briefly, the reasoning behind my using a "prayer journal" as opposed to a regular diary. The truth is that I have found I am likely to reveal far more about myself in a prayer journal than in a normal diary. This is because a diary tends to turn into an account of what I think might be important for me to remember later, whereas a prayer journal is a conversation in which you assume the other party is taking an interest in the events of the day, and your general thoughts on matters. Abigail/Rebecca's Christianity may well come into play later in the story, but I assure you this will not turn into a conversion crusade. I've met very few authors who can make that kind of storyline work, and I am sure I am not among them. Rebecca's beliefs are outlined primarily to aid in shaping her character.


	4. Virus

A/N: Here we are again. Sorry for the wait. School you know. We have a break coming up soon though, so hopefully that means more updates! ^_^

Hope you guys will forgive me, but I'm afraid this is another Author's Guild centric chapter. It's sort of necessary to explain some things that are and shall be happening in the DPverse.

And speaking of explanation, if you are having trouble figuring out what gender the Author's Guild Council Members are, then be at ease. You're not actually supposed to know. _No one_ actually really knows since they keep their faces hidden and their cloaks are so loose. I had thought I had mentioned this before, but Vamps was kind enough to bring it to my attention.

Also, just an FYI, the place the Author's Guild facility is located is called the "Between".

And now for reviews.

Raini: "Butterbiscuts" was actually my favorite exclamation of his from the series. You'll be hearing more like it. ^_^ As for remembering, well... we'll see. ^_^

HunterNite: New reader! Squee! ^_^ Gee, if I get too many more of these requests, they might just ask me to join the _council_. Not that I'd accept. Writing is far too much fun. ^_^

Vamps: No prob (to the shout out) and yes, it is too bad about Vlad. It's definitely going to be like that for a while.

Disclaimer:

Phyllis: Oh come on, do I _look_ like Butch Hartman to you?

Bandersnatch: You know they can't see you, right?

Phyllis: That's hardly the point!

And on with the show!

* * *

><p>"Back to causing trouble I see."<p>

Jonah K Thurston anxiously ran a hand through his short black hair. He couldn't see much in the dim light, but he knew the voice well enough to know he was in trouble. He was pretty sure he wasn't in the reckoning room though, so that was a blessing.

"Council member Nokoya," a voice purred from beside Jonah. "A pleasure to see you as always."

A light was turned on, and Jonah found himself blinking in the brightness. They were in a small office, furnished with only a desk and three chairs. His muse, Absynius, was stretched out on the chair next to him. A golden eyed calico about the size of lynx, he was grinning the only way a feline can which, if one didn't know the cat, would have actually been rather frightening. The brown cloaked council member was in front of him, near a small statue of what almost looked like a small sphinx. Was this Nokoya's personal office? It had never occurred to him that a council member might actually decorate.

"You're getting rather good at this Jonah," said the council member, getting Jonah's attention.

"Actually, being able to see you wouldn't help me much," Absynius replied, "You walk just like council member Soras."

"Hmm. Well, I wouldn't let Soras hear you say that if I were you."

The boy smirked, his green eyes flashing.

"I hardly believe you brought me here to discuss my unusual knack for identifying members of the council," said the cat.

"No, of course not," the council member replied with a sigh. "Jonah, you realize that one of these days you're going to get caught by someone less… _understanding_ than I am."

Jonah frowned and shot a look at Absynius, who shook his head.

"You cannot continue to be so reckless," said Nokoya.

"Did you honestly expect that I would just sit idly by," asked the cat. "Just sit by and do nothing while that man-" he shared a look with Jonah and growled.

"Absynius," Nokoya scolded, finally addressing the cat, "you are to speak for Jonah, nothing more."

"My apologies council member," the cat growled, "it is only… That man… That waste of-" he finished the statement with another growl.

"Well, I would ask that you keep your own opinions to yourself," the council member replied with an exasperated sigh. "I would ask that you not speak at all if not for the circumstances. Honestly Jonah, you really must keep a better reign on your muse. He forgets his place far too easily."

Jonah glared, then looked at his muse who smirked before shaking his head again.

"I will see to it that it doesn't happen again," said the cat, "Absynius will be severely reprimanded for his deviance."

"Glad to hear it."

Jonah looked at the cat in disbelief. Absynius responded with a shrug.

"Jonah," said the council member, "I will not bring you before the council for this infraction. You will, however, be losing your author's protection for the next week, and I will be pulling you from your current story. Am I clear?"

"Perfectly."

"Good," Nokoya turned from them, "you may go now."

Suddenly the cat's eyes widened considerably. He looked at Jonah and, grinning widely, shook his head before speaking again.

"I am ever grateful for your mercy," he said, shaking as he tried obviously not to laugh. "I shall endeavor to be more careful in the future for the sake of the guild."

Jonah looked up in surprise and glared at his muse.

"It pleases me to hear you say that Jonah," Nokoya replied, "you're a valuable AGO, and I would hate to see something unfortunate befall you. Remember, virtue and valor are tools to be used in _your_ world, not in the affairs of others."

"Your kindness is undeserved," the cat purred as it sauntered out of the room, motioning with his tail for Jonah to follow.

"Yes," the council member replied with a chuckle, "I suppose it is."

OoOoO

When they had finally reached a safe distance down the hall from Nokoya's office, Jonah stopped and glared at his muse.

"Oh, don't look at me like that," Absynius said with a smirk.

_'You should have told that idiot what I was really thinking'_ the boy thought to him.

"What, and get us both into even more trouble?" the cat replied. "If I told the council half of the things you think about them, they'd probably send us both straight to the Oblivion. He shuddered at the thought.

_'I don't like them talking to you that way'_ Jonah returned. _'As if you were some kind of servant.'_

"Well aren't I?" asked the cat, "I'm your inspiration, personal bodyguard, _and_ your translator."

_'You're also my friend,'_ said Jonah, stroking the top of the cat's head. Absynius purred. He knew Jonah's thoughts. Being a mute, having such a limited capacity for communication, was it any wonder he turned to his telepathic muse for companionship?

"Buchara! Buchara!"

Jonah and Absynius froze. Jonah knew that voice, and Absynius knew Jonah. It was Maldara, the council head of research; but what was the scientist doing in the enforcer's wing, and why did he need to speak with Buchara?

"What do you want?" Buchara's cold voice hissed.

"Forgive me enforcer," Maldara replied, "it's important."

"Well?"

"It… It's about the ghost virus," the scientist answered. "We… we should speak in private."

They heard a sigh, presumably from Buchara. "Fine," the enforcer replied, "this way."

Hearing the footsteps coming closer rather than farther away, Jonah and Absynius ducked into a nearby room. They shut themselves up in the closet, just in case it was into that room the two council members decided to go.

They were not disappointed.

"Well?" Buchara demanded, shutting the door behind them.

"Um, yes, well," the scientist began nervously, "Ah, you see, it's about the rats."

"What rats?"

"The rats," the scientist replied. "We were testing the ghost virus on rats."

"Yes, I know that," Buchara replied impatiently, "but your recent findings allowed us to use it on a _human_ so I hardly see why-"

"There were… unprecedented complications," Maldara interjected.

"What_ complications_?" Buchara returned darkly.

"Well, the… the first time we used the virus on the rats, you'll recall that the results were fairly, well, disastrous."

"Yes, I suppose the spontaneous combustion of test subjects would be considered "disastrous" in your line of work."

"We thought maybe it was simply a matter of potency," Maldara continued. "You remember how careful we had to be with the CGI virus."

"Yes, yes," Buchara responded with a shade of annoyance, "I showed up for your tiresome little speech, remember? Not that I had a choice. You said you were able to fix the problem by decreasing the power of the injections."

"We thought it would be the same for the ghost virus," Maldara replied. "We tried it several weeks ago and we were sure it had worked. Those rats have gone for weeks without any problems at all or, should I say, _had_?"

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"What are you talking about?"

"The rats… I came in this morning you see… We were going to run a few more tests… just to be sure you know… I-"

"Stop babbling and tell me what happened to the rats!"

There was another pause.

"They died."

"WHAT?"

"They were dead when I came in this morning. I didn't think-"

There was a slam as if something had been thrown against the wall. Jonah put a hand over Absynius's muzzle to keep him from yowling and revealing their hiding place.

"You. Said. It. Was. SAFE!" Buchara screeched. "You said all the bugs had been worked out! And now you're telling me that I have infected an AGO with a deadly virus?"

Maldara didn't respond.

"Does the rest of the council know?" Buchara asked, suddenly quiet again.

"No," Maldara replied, "you're the first person I've told."

"Is there any proof that the rats death was due to the virus?"

"Buchara, they all died within the same night!"

"But is there proof?"

"…No."

"Then I don't see any reason to discontinue the experiment just yet."

"But Buchara, the test subject-"

"Will only be where she is for a few short weeks," Buchara assured the nervous scientist. "Surely whatever story she was investigating is in full motion by now."

"But what if-"

"Look Maldara," Buchara hissed, "I may have been the one to implement the punishment, but it was because of _your_ findings that I was able to do so. If you say anything to the council, it will be _both_ of our necks. We just need to wait this out. Say nothing until we have some definite answers, understand?"

Maldara sighed.

"Yes."

"Good. Now, get out of here before someone asks what you're doing outside of the research wing!"

Jonah and Absynius listened as the door opened and closed again, but still waited a few minutes before coming back into the main room.

"What was _that_ about?" asked Absynius.

_'I don't know,'_ Jonah replied, _'but I intend to find out.'_

* * *

><p>AN: For those of you who may be re-reading this chapter, I have removed the competition due to a general lack of interest. It doesn't bother me in the slightest, but since I'm updating anyway I saw no reason to keep the directions for a competition that is no longer occurring. I'll still be making several references which I will make note of at the end of each chapter.

Thanks for reading, and I hope you'll do me the honor of blessing me with a review. ^_^


	5. Learning, Flying, Searching

A/N: Finally! Wow, I am SO sorry you guys. Christmas break was crazy, and then I got caught up in school stuff among _other_ things...

Bandersnatch: Like the Dr. Horrible fiasco.

Phyllis: Hehe, yeah, kind of a long story.

Anywho, let's cover some reviews eh?

In order of appearance:

HunterNite: No guesses eh? Well, we'll answer that question momentarily. ^_^

Vamps: Cameo... yeah, I still need to update that. ^_^ As usual, you've been a great help in the process. ^_^

Skye: (Yup, that's what I'm going with) Yay! New friends! ^_^ Glad you're enjoying it. As to your question about the challenge, you're essentially just supposed to guess what 'movie' 'book' 'video game' etc. I've referenced in the story along with any other details I request. I'll tell you all what the ref was from the last one momentarily, and hopefully that should help.

Raini: Yay! I love those two. ^_^ They were so much fun to write. Believe me, you will definitely be seeing more of our mute AGO and his telepathic muse. ^_^

Lil' Sis: Yep, that's what I'm calling you girly. ^_^ Anyway, hah! As if you didn't know! Living in the same house with me, it's nearly impossible not to know various plot points in my stories. lol. That would be like me saying "I wonder what's going to happen to Oni!" ^_^

Truephan: Thank you so much for reading my story! All your help for the past several weeks is appreciated as well. And yes, Buchara is a fantastic Jerk!

Bandersnatch: Oh boy. That comment's going to get us into some trouble...

Phyllis: Probably.

On a quick side note, I'd just like to mention that I am not entirely happy with the title of this chapter. Any input would be welcome.

Disclaimer: I own nothing! Well, that's not _entirely_ true. I own a cellphone, I own two hats, a bazillion notebooks, an ocarina, and other various and sundry things. ^_^ I do not, however, own anything pertaining to Danny Phantom.

And now, without further ado, Chapter 4.

* * *

><p>Many people who have ever slept away from home for an extended period of time have probably experienced that strange phenomena of waking up and thinking they are back at home in their own bed. It can be a bit of a shock when they suddenly realize that they were actually someplace else.<p>

Abigail had a similar experience when she awoke in the room Vlad had given her the night before. At some subconscious level she had expected to see a small white ceiling fan. What she saw was a small chandelier. Of course, _she_ could not fathom why she would be expecting to see a ceiling fan in the first place and, try as she might, thinking about it only made her more confused. Unable to bring the situation to light, she settled on staring dumbly at the chandelier, trying to remember, instead, where she was now.

It came back, little by little. She was… Abigail… _Abigail_ Masters… Funny, even now in her head it didn't quite fit. Abigail… Abigail… She supposed she'd reacclimate to it eventually. The house was her uncle's. Her uncle, Vlad… Masters.

She sat up as the previous day's events suddenly fell into place. She was a ghost, ….no, _half_ ghost. And yesterday she… and before she… No. No… there was nothing before. She frowned and tried to think, then sighed. Still nothing. She climbed out of bed and, feeling a weight shift on her arm, looked down at the white bracelet from the night before.

_Well_, she smirked, _at least I can take this off now_. She undid the clasp and removed the bracelet. A sudden wave of dizziness swept over her and she grasped the bed post for support, the bracelet falling from her hand to the ground with a clatter.

_Just one more reason for me _not_ to like that thing_. She thought. She took a deep breath and picked the bracelet up between her thumb and forefinger, holding it at arm's length as if she was afraid it might bite her. She set it on the vanity and, seeing her reflection in the mirror, decided it would probably be best to brush her hair.

"Abigail," she addressed the reflection with a smirk. "Abigail Madeline Masters… How can you not remember your own name?" Her reflection just smiled sardonically back at her. Satisfied that she was decent enough for the start of a morning, she moved to the window. Her room faced the front of the house, so she'd already seen what lay ahead. Still, it was a nice view, and the higher vantage point showed two other houses in the area, though, judging the distance, she doubted she would ever want to walk over to borrow a cup of sugar.

_I wonder what time it is. _She looked up at the sky. _Judging by the sun... Nope, I've got nothin'._

Her stomach took the opportunity to remind her of its presence. Apparently it was breakfast time.

_Now, where was that kitchen?_

OoOoO

Vlad Masters looked over at the clock impatiently. He had been glad at first to let the girl sleep. It gave him more time to plan his responses to the questions he would undoubtedly be bombarded with today. Still, he felt that 11:00 was more than late enough for a person to sleep in. He looked over at the butter and syrup on the table. The pancake batter had long since been stored in the fridge. It would keep for another day or so, but he still could not help but sigh over the seemingly wasted effort. He put away the butter and syrup and turned to exit the room, running smack into his 'niece'.

"What in the?" he started.

"Sorry," Abigail replied quickly, "I, I was looking for the kitchen." She grinned sheepishly. "Guess I found it."

"Finally decided to join the living, did we?" Vlad replied, ignoring the irony of the statement. Abigail cringed. She had gotten a good look at a large grandfather clock at the bottom of the stairs. Apparently it was _not_ breakfast time.

"Guess I was tired," she said.

"Yes, well I suppose yesterday was a tad more exciting than you are accustomed to," Vlad reasoned, adopting a less antagonistic tone. "It is a shame though. I was going to make pancakes."

Abigail's eyes widened at that, her mouth watering.

"That is still your favorite breakfast isn't it?" he asked. Of course, he knew the answer. The girl had devoted an entire journal entry to the subject. Why she thought the creator of the universe would care a fig about pancakes was beyond him. Nevertheless, she had gone on for two whole pages describing and thanking God for, of all things, pancakes. This wasn't about discovering the girl's preferences as much as it was testing the nature of her amnesia.

"I think so," Abigail replied. Was it? Did she like pancakes? If the increased complaining of her stomach was any indication, she most certainly did.

"I suppose we'll have to have them tomorrow then," Vlad replied.

"W-why not now?" Abigail returned, blushing at her forwardness, "I mean, I- I don't mind having breakfast for lunch."

Vlad smirked, "I'm afraid it would take far too much time," he said, "We've a great deal to do today." He moved to the pantry and pulled out a loaf of bread.

"Oh," replied Abigail, somewhat disappointed, though a bit excited to find out what it was they would be doing. Her uncle didn't seem inclined to tell her at the moment however, but continued retrieving materials for lunch, now having moved to the fridge to pull out a large bowl of egg salad. Abigail considered asking him, but then recalled the important news she wanted to tell him.

"I remembered something," she said.

The egg salad nearly made its untimely end on the floor as Vlad froze. It must be noted here, whether admirably or no, that he managed his composure quite well otherwise. His smile was a trifle stiff, but still quite believable as he innocently replied.

"Oh? What did you remember?"

"My prayer journal."

The billionaire's grip on the bowl tightened.

_Those incompetent idiots!_ He steamed,_ They give me their word and here it is, day two, and she is already regaining her memories!_

"Prayer journal?" he intoned calmly.

"Yeah," Abigail replied, looking a tad puzzled, "didn't I ever tell you about it?"

"Of course," he replied, finally setting the dish on the table. "It was my idea that you should keep a journal of sorts in the first place. I merely wanted you to elaborate."

Abigail blinked.

Vlad sighed and began slicing the bread. "What do you remember _about_ your prayer journal?" He asked.

"Oh," Abigail shifted uncomfortably, "not much really. Just that I had one."

"Any particular entries come to mind?"

Abigail frowned and shook her head. Vlad nearly sighed in relief. It was merely another habit. If he was correct, and time would tell soon enough, the girl's amnesia only affected her episodic memory. Personal events, the people she knew, the things she had done. Her semantic and procedural memory was still intact. She could easily remember basic facts, and retain skills and old habits without remembering how or why she knew them.

"It's all right, Abigail," he said. "The memories will come eventually, if indeed they are meant to. Until then, perhaps you could rely on me to fill in the gaps, hm?" He finished composing the first sandwich and held it out to his young charge who accepted it with a deflated sigh. She had been so excited to remember something, and now it seemed she had accomplished nothing. She _wanted_ to worry about it; and what exactly did her uncle mean by "if they are meant to"? How could it possibly be a good thing for her _not_ to remember?

She took a bite of the sandwich. It was a pretty good sandwich, even if Uncle Vlad _did_ cut the bread a tad thick. She wondered, briefly, if her mom sliced her own bread, but it seemed a bit trivial to ask. There were all the questions from last night still to deal with. She looked over at her uncle Vlad, who was now busily putting away the sandwich materials.

"Uncle Vlad?" she said tentatively.

"Hm?"

She shuffled uncomfortably and swallowed. She wished she could stop feeling so uneasy around him. She was his niece, his 'Little Sparrow'. She _should_ be able to ask him a question.

He was looking at her expectantly now, which only made her more nervous. She took a deep breath.

"What happened to me?"

Vlad was unable to suppress a smirk. "I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to ask," he said, then took on a more serious tone. "It isn't a pleasant story, I'm afraid," he informed her. "Had I known what would happen, I never would have-" he heaved a dramatic sigh, "well, I suppose it's a bit late for that now."

"What happened?" Abigail repeated, now even more intrigued than before.

"Your _father,_ Abigail," Vlad replied, the word 'father' coming out almost as if that were enough explanation in and of itself. "He had some sort of business to do in Colorado and he asked if he might use my cabin in the Rockies. I would have objected, save that he was taking you along with him. Your father knew I could never deny you." He shook his head sadly, "it never occurred to me that you might somehow find your way into my lab. You knocked over a shelf of chemicals I had been testing. Honestly, it's a miracle you're still alive at all. When your father described the symptoms to me I knew immediately what had happened to you. I came as soon as I could, but of course the damage had already been done. I almost took you with me right then, but you insisted your father still needed you, that you could handle yourself."

As if on cue, Abigail phased through the counter.

Vlad smirked.

"Obviously you've been doing quite a good job of it."

Abigail glared in annoyance. Vlad ignored this and continued.

"It wasn't until last week that you called to tell me your father had left. As if treating you like some sort of disease hadn't been bad enough, he abandoned you a mere three days after the incident. Of course I said you should come to stay with me and sent you the train ticket I had been saving just in case you would have need of it."

Abigail stood stunned a moment. It had all sounded like listening to someone else's story rather than her own but... what reason would Uncle Vlad have to lie?

"My father..." she muttered, shaking a little. "My- my dad..."

"Abandoned you, Abigail," Vlad said, laying a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder. She began to cry, nearly buckling with the weight of the sadness.

Vlad sighed inwardly. He really hoped this would be the last time he would have to deal with this.

"Why?" she said softly, "why?"

"Abigail," Vlad replied, lifting her face up to look into his own. "What your father did," he said, "what happened to you, is in the past. Today we look toward the future, and believe me Abigail, the future is bright."

Abigail pursed her lips and gave a final sniffle. It was very difficult to continue sobbing with Uncle Vlad looking at her like that. Not that she wasn't still upset. No, quite the contrary, but she got the feeling that he really wanted her to stop. Besides which, she suddenly could not help feeling an odd sense of calm after he had put his hand on her shoulder. She determined to be a good sport in the matter, but she hoped he would understand if she couldn't stop trying to look for yesterday just yet.

The remainder of lunch passed in somewhat uncomfortable silence, Abigail having decided that having the answers to two of her questions was enough for the time being. Then, once finished, they returned to the training room.

OoOoO

"Now," Vlad said, standing with his hands behind his back in a pose Abigail thought much like that of a professor beginning a lecture, "The first thing we are going to do is make you more familiar with your ghost core."

Abigail nodded, remembering the previous night's discussion.

"You can sense your core the same way you can sense your heart."

Abigail's face scrunched in confusion, and she put her hand up to her neck, just under the jaw.

Vlad rolled his eyes.

"Your _heart_ Abigail, not your pulse," he intoned. "This will go a great deal faster if you don't try to jump ahead of me."

Abigail blushed.

"Close your eyes," he commanded. Abigail complied.

"We can sense a great deal more within ourselves than we realize," Vlad said, continuing the lecture, "if we simply focus. Take a couple of deep breaths, good, now, drop your shoulders, just focus on breathing." He waited until she seemed well relaxed before continuing.

"Now, I want you to shift your focus downward toward your chest. You should feel a slight pulsing sensation. _That_ is your heart."

Abigail's jaw dropped slightly as she found it. It was so soft, it was nearly drowned out by every other sensation in her being. Still, there it was, in such a way that she was surprised she had never noticed something so important.

Seeing she had done as he directed, Vlad continued.

"When I direct you, I want you to morph, still focusing on that one area." He paused. "Ready?"

Abigail nodded slightly.

"Morph."

Still focusing on the gentle beating of her heart, it was an effort, but Abigail managed to morph. She cried out as a sudden jolt shot through her system, originating from deep inside her chest. Losing her balance with the shock of it, she soon found herself flat on her back. Her face was ablaze with embarrassment as she looked up at her uncle who looked back at her with an expression somewhere between amusement and impatience. She scrambled to her feet and, taking a deep breath, concentrated on the area she had felt the shock originate.

There, right _there_, a now soft buzz of energy almost as unobtrusive as her heart had been. She couldn't keep the smile from growing on her face. It was… beautiful…

"I never could have imagined-" she said in almost a whisper.

Vlad smirked. Finally they were getting somewhere.

"I want you to try flying again. This time without the wings and focusing on how your core reacts," he said.

Abigail's eyes snapped open, flashing with distress. She had guessed her uncle would want her to eventually, but she couldn't help but remember how terrified she had been the night before. It wasn't the height that bothered her so much as the prospect of falling. She liked the _idea_ of flying well enough, but wanting a ball was _not_ wanting a prince.

"You aren't going to fall, Abigail," Vlad said, irritation giving a slight edge to his voice, "and if you do, I'll be right here."

Abigail flushed, this time with shame. Of course he would be here. She scrambled to her feet and offered her most convincing smile.

"Okay," she said, trying to sound excited. She needed to find pleasure in it, or else she was sure she would fail.

She closed her eyes and, focusing on her core, pictured the scene, the anxiousness of Icarus as he stood waiting, the anticipation as he lifted his arms to embrace the sky.

_Embrace it;_ she told herself_; Enjoy it._

She felt a sudden, wicked exhilaration as she pushed her arms downward, the energy from her core growing stronger and sending a slight, almost untraceable wave of energy throughout her being. She knew it, she could _feel_ exactly what she had done as she felt the weight of her feet as they left the ground. Furthermore, to her utter delight, she _knew_ she could easily duplicate it should the need ever arise. She chanced opening her eyes, and sure enough, she was at least as high up as before. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked down and shielded her eyes with a groan as an unbidden image of plummeting to the ground below invaded her mind.

_Embrace it… Enjoy it._

_It's too high!_

_You haven't fallen yet._

_Maybe I have. Maybe I'm dead, for real this time!_

_Then you have nothing to lose._

_Wanting a ball is not wanting a prince!_

_What _do_ you want?_

_What do I want?_

_Do you want this?_

…_Maybe… but... I'm so afraid…_

"Abigail?"

_I think you just have to believe you can do it._

She smiled a bit, strangely encouraged by the memory. One of the few pieces of information she could _call_ a memory.

She opened her eyes again and looked down at her uncle.

"I… I'm alright," she said sheepishly.

"Then perhaps you wouldn't mind moving about rather than just hanging there. We've a great deal to do today if you will remember."

Abigail nodded and looked around briefly. It wasn't so bad, now that she really took it in. She had yet to fall; maybe it wouldn't be too much to try.

Gingerly she shifted her weight to the right and gasped at how easily she moved. She stopped for a moment, eyes wide, then, suddenly, she began to laugh. Oh, this was _something_! She shifted into a sort of glide to her left, then forward, then right again, now a turn and a bit of a twist, a little spin, farther up, diving now, a somersault, growing faster, going farther, breathlessly giddy, forgetting everything except this strange aerial dance. She understood the appeal now. She could do _anything_ from up here. Nothing could keep her from going where she wished and doing what she wanted.

_Except maybe a wall,_ she thought wryly, pulling hard back before running into one.

Vlad smirked and shook his head. The child looked ridiculous. Like a four year old attempting ballet. That sort of sloppiness would not do at all.

Abigail was still smirking at the wall when she heard a small cough from behind her. She turned and started when she saw her uncle, in his ghost form once again, floating beside her. She gasped at the sight of his pupil-less red eyes and pointed fangs, then, finally recognizing him, chuckled meekly.

"I guess I'll have to get used to that," she said sheepishly. Vlad smirked in response.

"Your movements are erratic and flighty," he said, offering his hand. Abigail took it and Vlad led her away from the wall toward the other end of the room. "You have to move with _purpose_," he advised, "senseless spins and turns waste energy and should only be used to confuse an opponent."

"Opponent?" Abigail frowned in confusion.

"The world is a dangerous place, Abigail," Vlad intoned. "No less so with your newfound ghost powers. If I seem harsh in my instruction it is only out of concern for your safety."

"Oh no, Uncle Vlad!" she replied, "I mean, it's fine!"

Vlad smirked. "Then I don't suppose you would mind flying over to the other room for me?" he asked.

Abigail blinked in confusion. "Um… sure," she shrugged. Vlad's smirk broadened.

"Begin flight response training program level 5," he commanded.

**Level 5 flight program initiated.**

Abigail, who had gotten hardly five feet from the wall, turned her head in confusion. Her flight was then interrupted quite abruptly by a solid force. She grunted with the impact and backed up, surprised to find herself staring at a blue, semi-transparent force field about three feet across and six feet in height. She slumped her shoulders and stared incredulously at the wall.

_Not funny_- she thought, moving right to go around it. She was startled then when another force field suddenly appeared next to the first, blocking her path once again, then, as she attempted to move farther, another flanking her right. She looked back at her uncle in baffled irritation and attempted to return to him only to be stopped by yet another force field. She stared wide-eyed at her uncle who was floating, arms crossed, looking terribly pleased with himself.

"U-uncle Vlad?" she stammered, suddenly a little afraid.

"The walls react to your energy signature," he explained, "and disappear only once you've gone a significant distance away."

Abigail turned her head and, sure enough, the first couple of walls were gone.

"You'll have to follow the path in order to get out," he told her.

Abigail sighed in relief. There _was_ a way out. She just needed to find it.

"I'll be waiting at the exit," he informed her. Abigail gasped when her uncle suddenly disappeared in a cloud of pink smoke. She turned around and was further surprised to find him now floating at the other end of the room.

_Like to learn that one_- she mused. She turned her attention to the shield nearest to her and tentatively placed a hand on it. Although the wall appeared to be made only of energy, it had a very solid feel to it.

"Doesn't look that hard," she muttered, "well, come on feet- er… whatever."

Vlad watched as the girl clumsily navigated the course, frequently slamming into force fields as they came up before her. Eventually she was able to find a middle ground, flying with relative ease, that is, until the upward and downward turns were introduced. Still, she was managing. It was taking a great deal of time though. They were going to have to rush the remainder of what he had wanted to teach her before her first trip into the ghost zone.

The billionaire sighed as he continued to watch. He really hoped it was going to be worth the effort. Really, if the girl's abilities were not as he was anticipating, he did not know what he would do with her. It was entirely possible that the tie between the girl's imagination and her ghost powers could greatly enhance her abilities, as well as give her an extra advantage in learning. Even were that the case, she would not learn without his aid. Daniel had already proven that he could not teach her, and it was unlikely that she would learn on her own. No, without his training, she could hardly become the help or the threat Buchara had hinted at. Still, he was not going to allow his efforts to be in vain. The girl was already in a position that made her very difficult to dispose of without a great deal of headache.

His thoughts were interrupted as Abigail finally emerged from the course, a triumphant grin on her face.

"I did it," she said cheerfully.

"And took a great deal of time doing it," he intoned dryly, "I hope you understand now what I mean by 'moving with purpose'."

Abigail's face fell as she slowly nodded her head. Vlad frowned. What was this? Had she really expected to be praised for taking twenty-five minutes to finish a fifteen minute course? He hardly thought that would do any good. It was true that she was new to all of this, but there had to be some baseline of expectation if she was going to learn anything. Still, the look on her face… bothered him.

Suddenly noticing the odd look her uncle was giving her Abigail straightened, offering him a smile that did not quite reach her eyes.

"I'll do better next time," she promised.

"That," said Vlad, smiling in return, "is what I wanted to hear."

The smile finally reached her eyes.

"Now," the man continued, "Let's work on your intangibility shall we?"

OoOoOoO

Things were surprisingly busy at the Amity Park train station. The three teens had not imagined that so many people still took trips by rail. It had been Tucker's idea to come. After spending two hours looking for clues at the school with no result, he had remembered that Vlad had said Abigail was to meet him at the station. It had seemed a very good idea at the time, but now, with such a large crowd, they weren't so sure. The fact was that they had spent a half an hour, not even really knowing what to look for and, frankly, they were tired of searching. The three were just about to leave when they heard a cough from just behind them. A kindly looking man with a large grey mustache was smiling at them.

"You kids lookin' for somethin'?" he asked.

"Um, sort of," Danny replied.

"Well, if there's anythin' I can do to help-"

"Actually, maybe you can," said Sam. "Did you see a girl yesterday, tall, brown hair-"

"Purple shirt with a butterfly on it?" Tucker added.

The man scratched his beard thoughtfully. "Well," he said, "I wasn't actually working yesterday, and even if I had been, I'm not sure I'd remember it. You see a lot of people around here comin' an' goin'. Maybe Ted can help you. Young fella always pays attention to the ladies. 'Specially the pretty ones."

That last part seemed more of a question. Danny and Tucker looked at each other and shrugged. They hadn't really thought about it.

The man chuckled. "Smart boy," he told Sam with a wink, "You keep that one." Sam smirked in response, unconsciously feeling for the small ring on her left hand. "Well, if anyone can help you, it'll be Ted." The man looked over their shoulders and cupped a hand to his mouth.

"TED!" he shouted.

"Yeah?" a somewhat irritated voice called back.

"Would you stop botherin' that girl and get your butt over here?"

The three looked behind them, but could see nothing for the crowd. A few people had stopped to see what the shouting was about, but they didn't see anyone they might have identified as 'Ted'. After a moment, however, a young gentleman did push through the crowd. He was glaring through black-rimmed glasses, his freckle-specked cheeks nearly as red as his bright hair.

"Get her number?" the older man asked with a smirk.

"How is it, Carl," the young man demanded, "that you always seem to need me, just when I'm with a girl?"

"Ted, when are you _not_ with a girl?" the man retorted. "Maybe if you focused more on work and less on women it wouldn't be an issue." His voice was stern, but there was a definite twinkle of mischief in his eyes. Ted sighed and shook his head.

"So what did you need me for?"

"Well, we've got three young detectives here askin' about a girl," Carl replied, "I told 'em you might be able to help."

"Depends," Ted replied, looking at the group. "What did she look like?"

The three reiterated their description and were surprised when the man laughed.

"Yeah," he said, "only one girl I remember with that description. She was just wandering around here yesterday, mumbling something about two dimensional physics."

"Did she come off the train?" asked Danny.

"I don't think so," said Ted. "Maybe. In any case, she looked pretty lost. Asked me where the nearest hotel was. I told her to check out the Iron Gate Inn out on Herring. Even offered to drive her out there myself, you know, just to be friendly."

Carl snorted.

"She declined," Ted continued, giving his co-worker a warning glare, "and that's about all I know. Why do you want to find her? She a friend of yours?"

"You could say that," said Tucker.

"Do you know if she went straight to the hotel?" asked Sam.

"I would assume so," he replied, "Kind of a long walk though with her carrying that duffel bag."

"Thanks for your help," said Danny, "could you just point us in the direction of the Iron Gate?"

Ted nodded. "From here, left on Selzer, right on Ubesk, and left again on Herring. It _is_ kind of a long walk though."

"We'll manage," said Sam.

"All right, well good luck then."

"You kids stay safe," said Carl.

"We will," said Danny. "Thanks."

After they left, Carl turned to Ted with a smirk.

"I'm proud of you Ted," he said. "You didn't try to flirt with that young lady even once."

"I'm a romantic Carl, not an idiot," he returned. "She and the black-haired kid were obviously a couple, and I have a feeling I would not want to cross him."

OoOoOoO

As far as hotels went, the Iron Gate was pretty standard. The lobby was clean, complete with fish tank and a small sitting area, perfect for continental breakfasts. The hostess was a curly-haired brunette with beady eyes and smile too large for her face. Her badge read 'Margaret'.

"Oh yes, I remember her," she said, after the three had given their description. "Strange girl. She wouldn't give her real name. She told us to call her Fable. Said anyone who was _supposed_ to find her would give that name. She paid in cash, so I didn't mind. Besides, she looked like she was suffering from a terrible headache, poor girl."

"What room did she check into?" asked Sam.

"Hmm, well, normally I wouldn't be able to give out that information, but since she has already checked out I don't see the harm in it."

"Checked out?" said Tucker. "As in, the same day?"

"That's what our records show," said the woman. "Paid for a week and checked out the same day. Didn't even request a refund. A very peculiar girl. The room was 32F. She insisted on it. It was available of course since we rarely have enough guests to fill the top floor, but she was just so adamant about it. Patricia seems to think she had disorder of some sort. You know, like that o.c-thingy? But I think she was waiting for someone to find her. A secret Romeo perhaps. Ah, forbidden love!" She sighed.

Sam nearly gagged.

"Could we take a look?" Danny asked.

"Oh, I couldn't possibly," she replied, "In fact, I should probably be sending Eloise up to clean it. Stupid girl, probably forgot all about it." She looked down at her watch. "Maybe I'll wait until after her lunch," she muttered to herself. "It's just fifteen more minutes. No sense having the girl gripe at me for missing her lunch."

"Do you know where she went after she left?" asked Sam.

"Couldn't say," the lady replied. "She asked for a map of the city, and then had me circle a couple of locations, but I don't know which she would have wanted to go to first."

"What locations?" asked Danny.

"Well, you _are_ a nosy bunch aren't you?" the woman teased. "Why so concerned?"

"Fable's a friend of ours," Danny began.

"Oh no!" the woman exclaimed before he could continue. "You mean- Oh dear! She's _missing_? Oh, that's _terrible_! You poor dears! You're conducting an investigation all on your own. How tragic!"

The three gave each other fairly mortified looks as the woman continued to rant.

"Can you find no compassion in the justice system? Oh dear, dears! If there's anything I can do to help, anything at all-"

"Um, if you could just tell us where she was going?" Danny interjected.

"Oh! Of course! Of course!" the woman replied, "Now… let's see. I believe she asked me to point out Casper High, Fenton Works… Oh! And the local GiW facility."

"The Guys in White?" Danny exclaimed.

"Yeah, weird huh?" Margaret replied. "I had to look it up. Fenton Works too. Is your friend into ghosts?"

"You could say that," Sam intoned dryly.

"Dangerous business, getting involved with the Guys in White," the hostess continued. "Ghosts or no ghosts, it can't be good for the city to be under constant government surveillance. I hope she went to Fenton Works first. They may not be the most competent, but they're honest!"

Danny said nothing, far too troubled by this new information. Noting his obvious concern, the hostess frowned.

"Tell you what," she said, "I'm just so tired today and, well, I'm just having the darndest time focusing on anything! In fact," she grinned, "I doubt I'd even notice if three kids were to, say, get on the elevator, go up to the third floor and, oh, look around?"

Danny and Sam both smiled, and after a moment of confusion, so did Tucker.

"Oh!" he said, "you mean-"

"Wouldn't notice a thing," the lady replied, an enormous grin betraying her excitement at being part of the 'intrigue', "and would you look at that? 10 more minutes before I have to get Eloise started on that room."

"Thanks," said Danny.

"For what?" the hostess asked innocently before waving them toward the elevator.

Truth be told, they probably would have went to check out the room anyway, but it was nice to have permission. Once the hostess had turned around, Danny, not wanting to waste time with the elevator, turned he and his friends both invisible and intangible before flying up through the ceiling to the third floor. Sam watched Danny as they walked along the hall, searching for 32F. She knew he was bothered by this new development, and she really could not blame him. The Guys in White had dealt them a serious blow; one which, they at least, would not soon forget.

"Danny," she said gently.

"Let's just get this over with Sam."

* * *

><p>AN: Whoa, hold on! Danny and Sam are a _couple_? Yeah, sorry to just spring that on you guys like this. I'm planning to do some updates to make that clear earlier in the story. I fought with myself quite a long while over it, as well as the explanations given in the next chapter. An explanation Truephan suggested I apply. Thank you Truephan, and, by it just goes to show ya, constructive criticism is, indeed, constructive!

Bandersnatch: You sure they'll feel that way after the next chapter?

Phyllis: One can only hope. It should be up a lot sooner, by the way. Since it was originally going to be a part of _this_ chapter, I've already started in on it.

Happy hunting! Oh, and don't forget the shiny lil' button. Nothing feeds a writer like encouragement and some good 'ol CC! (constructive criticism)

A/N redux: The updates have been made.

Additional references made:

"Wanting a ball is not wanting a prince." ~Cinderella, "Into the Woods"

"Well, come on feet" ~Sarah, "The Labyrinth"


	6. What Happened Then

A/N: Yikes! Sorry about the ridiculously long wait you guys. Honestly, this chapter fought me tooth and nail, kicking and screaming, shrieking into the night with-

Bandersnatch: THEY GET IT! Geez!

Phyllis: Eheh... sorry. In any case, here we are again, and I hope you guys are still with me. ^_^

You may (or may not) have noticed that I've updated pretty much ALL of my chapters. It's nothing too serious. For the most part I just made things a little "prettier" by cleaning up some mistakes that were missed previously. The two biggest changes are my referencing Danny and Sam's status as a couple in "Waking" and fixing some awkwardness at the beginning "Learning, Flying, Searching". Thanks Truephan! ~waves~

I also have deleted the contest. Nobody was playing, which is fine, but there really wasn't any point in keeping it. I will still be making references to various other media, but I'm going to post their origins at the bottom since; otherwise, it completely spoils the fun of recognizing it yourself. ^_^

On a side note, I now have two betas, so here's a quick shout out to both Vamps and Truephan. You guys are AWESOME! ^_^

And now for some review recognition:

Vamps:

Bandersnatch: AUGH! Give me back my stick!

Phyllis: Oh for crying out loud Bandersnatch! Just make yourself another one! ~sigh~ Anywho, glad you liked the chapter, and for keeping Clocky from turning me inside out. Unfortunately, _some_ of us don't have the benefit of knowing every writer from the dawn to the end of time! ^_^

Truephan: Yay! ~claps~ I'm glad you like my humor. I try to add a dash of it to pretty much anything I write. Also, in case I didn't mention it before, I am quite honored that you liked the "wingless flight" and "heart/core" bits. Don't let Bandersnatch fool you though. _I'm_ the one who did the research on memory.

Bandersnatch:~smug~ Yes, but who made sure you didn't wander off to T.V. Tropes while doing so?

Phyllis: -_-...

Lil' Sis: Oh Roecliff. ^_^ ~pat pat~

It's difficult because neither of us can keep our traps shut when we get excited about a story. XD!

Well now, with _that_ out of the way, we can get to the important bit. Chapter 5! ^_^

* * *

><p>~One Year Earlier~<p>

It had been about a couple of months after the 'Disasteroid' incident. Things were going pretty well; Danny didn't have to hide anymore, which made ghost-fighting much easier. Tucker had gotten two full weeks of fame as Amity's mayor before the Federal government reminded the city that there were certain laws against immature politicians, well, at least _under-aged_ ones. In and of itself, that was not a bad thing since he had become a bit big-headed about the whole thing. Danny's parents had accepted him as Sam and Tucker had always known they would; and best yet, he and Sam were finally a couple. That, at least, had not changed. Although Vlad _did_ return, he had been forced into hiding and couldn't really do much to harm anyone.

There were disadvantages of course. Danny got a whole lot of attention, and it wasn't always good. There were times he had been hindered from capturing a ghost by some ambitious reporter or photographer getting in the way. The people were less fearful of ghosts with Danny around, which was a good thing, but unfortunately there were a lot of people a little _too_ lacking in fear. In fact, it was so bad in some cases that the more "adventurous" would follow Danny, or even taunt ghosts, hoping to see some action. Some of them would post their intentions on the internet, complete with date time and place, in order to attract large groups of spectators. Usually these "events" didn't get anywhere as no one really knew when and where a ghost would show up, but the few times it did were disastrous. Not to mention, even when nothing actually happened, _someone_, usually Sam or Tucker, had to be present just in case one of them needed to alert Danny.

Coupled to that, Danny had had to deal with false alarms, overly inquisitive scientists, and crazy admirers. The Fentons ended up having to put up a human force-field. Then, of course, were the people who still believed he was evil purely due to his half-ghost nature.

The Guys-in-White were among them.

One might have thought _that_ particular group would cut him some slack after saving the world, but after a couple of weeks they actually managed to become Danny's biggest problem. After the government discovered they were going after the world's number one hero, they immediately cut funding, but somehow they _still_ persisted. Danny suspected Vlad had somehow found a way to provide the money, but there was no real way to be sure.

Then, suddenly, the GiW were really quiet. Where before they had been attacking Danny once or twice a week, suddenly there was no activity whatsoever. After three weeks of this, Danny became concerned and insisted on finding out just what it was they were up to. He, along with Sam, Jazz and Tucker, had very carefully infiltrated the facility where they discovered what seemed to be a massive weapon. Tucker set to work on disabling it, but had only gotten through the first set of codes before setting off the alarm.

OoOoOoO

"Oh, great!" Danny moaned.

"Hurry, Tucker!" Sam exclaimed.

"I'm doing my best," Tucker replied, tapping furiously on his PDA.

"Guys," Jazz intoned.

"They've got it locked," Tucker returned, "I need more time!"

Sam bit her lip, looking from Danny, to the machine, and finally to the door. Then, before anyone could object, she ran out into the hallway.

"Sam!" Danny exclaimed. "What are you doing?!"

"Buying us some more time!" she replied.

Jazz, realizing what Sam was thinking, turned to Danny with a reassuring smile.

"Don't worry, little brother," she said. "I know you and Tucker can handle this." And with that, she ran out into the hallway and straight into a group of oncoming GiW operatives, with Sam already in custody. She stopped and leaned back into a feigned swoon.

"Oh, no!" she said dramatically. "Sam, I told you we had to be careful without Danny around to save us!"

Sam rolled her eyes at Jazz's little 'act'.

"You told us you came by yourself," the lead operative said to Sam.

"Oh, did I say just _me_?" Sam asked nervously. "I meant just _us_. The _two_ of us. Yup, just me and Jazz. No Danny whatsoever!"

"You're not fooling anyone," the operative behind the first declared. "Our instruments clearly show the presence of an entity, level eight on the ecto-scale."

"Danny Phantom is here," said the lead, "and we intend to find him."

"Actually, he's right in there," said Jazz, casually pointing at the door from which they had come.

Sam's eyes widened in horror and disbelief. What was Jazz thinking?! Before she could object; however, the lead operative cut in again.

"Do you really expect us to believe that?" he demanded.

"What if she's telling the truth?" asked the operative behind him.

"Of course she isn't," the lead operative replied. "If she were telling the truth, she wouldn't have told us. Besides, Phantom couldn't possibly have gotten through the security shield."

"What about the nerdy kid?"

"Negative," the lead confirmed. "Our security codes are impenetrable."

Jazz grinned knowingly at Sam as the two operatives bickered. Catching on, Sam smirked.

"They're just too smart for us Jazz," she said. "They've probably figured out we have no idea what is even _in_ that room."

The two operatives stopped arguing. There was a sudden moment of eerie silence as the lead operative turned and grinned at the two girls.

"Would you like us to tell you?"

OoOoOoO

"A what?" Danny exclaimed.

"Memory wipe program," Tucker replied, shaking his head numbly.

"Geez, can't these guys come up with something original for once?"

"I know, right?" Tucker replied. "Dude, this is set to affect everyone outside this facility!"

"Everyone in Amity Park?"

Tucker shook his head.

"Given the set range on this thing, I'd say they intend to wipe out the memories of everyone on the planet!"

"Why would the Guys-in-White want to erase everyone's memories?" asked Danny.

"There should be a date set on here," said Tucker, still tapping on his PDA. "Here it is. June 16th, 2007."

Danny frowned. Why did that date seem significant? Then his eyes widened in realization.

"That's a month before D-day!" he exclaimed. 'D-day' was the name everyone had given to the 'Disasteroid incident'. What the "D" stood for really depended on who you asked. Some said "Danny" some "Disasteroid" and still others just called it "doomsday".

"Dude, they're not taking any chances. If the Guys-in-White are the only ones who know about the "Disasteroid incident—"

"They'll be the only ones who know I'm half-ghost, making it much easier to hunt me." Danny shook his head. "But why a whole month? I mean, that's even before Plasmius hired on the 'Masters Blasters'. No one will know his identity, either. How could that possibly be a good thing?"

"Maybe they want credit for discovering him, too," Tucker suggested.

"Or maybe Plasmius is the one behind all this," Danny returned venomously.

"I dunno," Tucker replied. "Why would the Guys-in-White team up with Vlad?"

"Can you think of a better explanation?"

"Uh, maybe we should worry about that later," Tucker said nervously.

"Why, wha —"

**Device activation in five minutes.**

Danny groaned.

" Great."

OoOoOoO

"Wow," Jazz remarked, "don't you guys ever come up with anything original?"

The operatives looked at Jazz in confusion.

"You know," said Sam, rolling her eyes. "Matching suits, sunglasses, and now a weapon that erases people's memories?"

"Suspect subject is referring to the government's Extra Terrestrial Relations unit," suggested the secondary operative.

The lead operative frowned.

"That information is classified," he said accusingly.

"Besides," said the other, "we're nothing like those guys."

"We wear white."

OoOoOoO

**Three minutes to activation.**

"Maybe I should just blast it," Danny suggested, eyeing the large device.

"I don't think so," Tucker replied. "The ecto-shield is a lot stronger than the one outside."

"You can't just disable it?"

"I told you, dude," Tucker replied, "this thing is locked tight! There's no way I can just disable this thing in three minutes!"

"Well, what do we do?"

"Well," Tucker said tentatively, "I can think of one thing, but I don't think you'll like it…"

OoOoOoO

"I suspect the subjects are stalling for time."

The lead operative leaned in close to Sam and Jazz's faces. Both had been, by this time, physically detained by the other, low ranking operatives.

"You will tell us where Phantom is now," he seethed.

The girls cried out as the two goons behind them twisted their arms. Sam scowled. If only she could get to her boot.

**Two minutes to activation.**

BANG!

The two operatives looked up in the direction of the door. Jazz seized the opportunity and sent a high-kick to the lead operative's head, effectively twisting herself out of the grasp of the one that had been holding her. Sam likewise stomped on the foot of the operative holding her, following up with a punch to the gut. Retrieving her wrist ray, she fired at the light above, sending a shower of sparks down on the operatives. Before the men could react, Sam and Jazz ran down the hallway. That noise had definitely come from the room Danny was in. The two could only hope they were okay.

OoOoOoO

"Okay, so apparently that _wasn't_ a good idea," Danny said, observing a large charred spot on the wall behind him.

Tucker sat wide-eyed, still slightly stunned from the blast. He'd _told_ Danny the ghost shield was too powerful. Still, neither one of them had quite expected the ray to ricochet when Danny attacked it.

"There isn't another way?" Danny asked.

Tucker shook his head.

"But what about Sam, Jazz, my parents?"

"We don't have time, dude!" Tucker explained, already tapping furiously on his PDA. "You'll just have to fill them in later!"

Danny looked at the door frantically as if trying to decide something.

**One minute to activation.**

"Danny, don't!" Tucker warned as Danny rushed toward the door.

Before he could get to it, however, it flew open and Sam and Jazz rushed inside, slamming the door behind them. Danny sighed in relief.

"Tucker!" Sam exclaimed.

"Hold on!" Tucker shouted back.

There was a sound of feet from behind the door.

**Thirty seconds to activation.**

"Stand back," Danny ordered.

Sam and Jazz complied and Danny sent an ecto-blast at the door handle, effectively melting it. There was a loud banging from beyond the door, then the sharp voice of the lead operative.

"You think it matters whether or not I get in there now?" he demanded. "Once everyone forgets about their "great hero" we'll have zero problem with taking you down!"

**Ten seconds to activation. Nine….Eight…**

"Tucker!"

"Come quietly, ghost kid, and we'll leave your friends alone."

"HOLD ON!" Tucker practically screamed.

**Five…Four…**

The banging grew louder as dents began forming in the metal door.

"TUCKER!"

**Three…Two...**

"Got it!"

**One… **

Tucker's face paled. "Er, at least I hope I got it!" he uttered anxiously.

His three friends tensed.

There was a sickening silence, then a high-pitched whine, growing to deafening proportions and ending in another sound, much like a sonic boom. Danny pulled his sister and friends together as the room began to shake, forming an ecto-shield over them for protection.

But there was more! The device continued to whirl a bit as it booted up for the chain of pre-programmed commands to self-destruct.

**Self-destruct in Three…Two…One…**

The din was almost unbearable as the device began to collapse in on itself, taking a great deal of the room with it. They held each other as pieces of the device and the ceiling fell, bouncing off Danny's ecto-shield and crashing to the ground around it. Just as Danny thought he couldn't hold the shield any longer, the noise and shaking ceased. They looked around at the debris, surprised more damage had not been done. Their thoughts were suddenly broken by a series of groans from beyond the door. Danny sighed.

"Let's go, guys," he said.

"What about the Jerks-in-White?" asked Sam.

"Trust me," Danny replied, "they're not really worried about us right now.

Indeed they were not. They were far too busy figuring out what they were doing in the middle of the hallway and why said hallway looked like a war zone. Under normal circumstances, the fact that Tucker had managed to turn their own device against them would have been extremely funny. But now, not only did the Guys-in-White have their memories wiped, the rest of the world did, too.

Still, Tucker was disappointed. In spite of his efforts to stop the machine and then change its parameters when he realized he couldn't, he had only been able to protect his friends and him from the scope of the ray. Of course his friends reassured him that they appreciated all that he did, but he wished he could have done more, especially for Danny's sake. From now on, no one would remember the events of 'D-day' or Danny's identity.

More than that, the constant reminders, namely, all those statutes commemorating the 'D-day' didn't help matters at all. True, the inscription on the bottom of each one had been fairly vague: "In honor of Phantom, defender of Earth." So, some people thought it was a joke at first. That was until they realized there was actually a duplicate statue in every major city in the world. It wasn't long after that every one of them was taken down and a full investigation begun to determine their origin. The investigation still continued, but much of the initial excitement over it had died down. Some passed it off as a government conspiracy, others cried 'alien invasion', but most chose not to think about it at all. Ironically, the GiW blamed Danny, both for the statues and what they guessed had been some kind of memory loss to keep everyone from knowing where the statues had come from. Once they managed to get back on their feet they began to hunt him with renewed vigor.

Still, even Danny had to admit that, without the widespread knowledge of his true identity, life had gotten a lot easier; in some ways easier than they had been even before the 'Disasteroid incident'. Most of the ghosts still remembered D-day as the memory erasing device was not set to affect the Ghost Zone, and many of them now stayed out of his way due in part to gratitude, and to fear. His biggest problems came from the Guys-in-White and those few ghosts who still felt they had a personal vendetta; or in Skulker's case, rivalry against him.

OoOoOoO

~Present Day~

Once Danny, Sam and Tucker had reached the third floor of the inn, they began to search for the room that the inn's hostess had directed them to in hopes of finding more clues regarding their new friend Fable. They knew they had to hurry because the inn's hostess had told also them that she would be sending the maid up to clean the room in about ten minutes.

As they continued down the hallway, Sam thought about these events—but mostly how they had affected Danny. It was true that things were easier now that Danny's identity was, once again, a secret, and Sam had to admit she really didn't miss the popularity. Still, the effect on Danny was troubling.

He had gone into a sort of depression for weeks after the event, speaking hardly a word to anyone. Then, even when he seemed to come out of it, there were times where he would sit for what seemed like ages just staring off into space. He had refused to re-reveal to his parents that he was half-ghost, despite her, Tucker, and Jazz all insisting that they would surely accept him as had been their track record. Honestly, he really didn't know how he felt about the matter. At first, he did want to tell them. But the moment he had returned home after the incident at the GiW's facility, his parents had already noticed the sudden time lapse. They both started in on ghosts and how they probably had something to do with 'the conspiracy'. Of course, their talk of ghosts brought up the subject of "that Phantom scum" which, at that particular moment was just more than Danny could handle… Deep down, he knew his parents wouldn't reject him, but he just couldn't bring himself to tell them after what had happened…

After that, and over the last several months, things had gradually begun to return to normal. Well, near normal. Most people had been incredibly suspicious of Danny Phantom due to the oddity of the statues being placed every which-where. Plus, there were many awkward moments when he did come on any scene, now that he was no longer everyone's 'hero'. Still, it wasn't so much about losing the fame as it was about having to hide that big part of himself again.

Then, there were the ghosts. Somehow, there still was this sense that ghost-fighting had suddenly become a little too... personal. He wasn't even sure how he should feel about the ghosts in the Ghost Zone since they had not been affected by the GiW's machine….

As Sam was mulling over all this, she felt a gentle pressure on her right hand. She looked up at Danny who was looking at her with concern.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," Sam replied, stifling the urge to sigh. It shouldn't be _he_ who was worried about _her._

"Here we are," Tucker interjected. "Room 32F."

Without another word they went inside. It was obvious that no one had been in the room for very long. The bed was still made, the comforter slightly wrinkled from where it had been sat on. The room was, for the most part, immaculate, and a quick search of the bathroom, linen closet, and under the bed revealed nothing. Then Sam noticed drawers underneath the table top of what was, in fact, a very small writing table. She opened the leftmost drawer and pulled out a sheet of lined yellow paper.

"Hey guys, check this out."

Tucker and Danny moved to either side of her to look at the paper.

_Project log 396_

_September 2008_

_Fable Tailor – 39752KLB_

_Day one,_

_Finally arrived at the Iron Gate. "Jet lag" has subsided mostly. Dull throb of a headache remains, but I've stopped having to look around every corner to make sure there is, in fact, a corner._

_Scoping out Casper High today. I don't think I'll have time for anything else. Would like to visit Fenton Works, but I still need to introduce myself to Phantom. Hopefully will run into him at the school. If not it'll be the GiW HQ tomorrow and what will probably be a less than pleasant interview with Mr. Creepers himself. Hope the action starts soon. A week is really too short for a dry spell, and I could really use an extension._

_At least the room is nicer than the one in Rendum. The table actually has drawers. Keeping my extra business cards in the right one since I usually end up losing them._

_And there, I've already managed to rip a log page. I am so not writing this down again._

_Well, on to Casper High and, hopefully, a good lead._

_~Fable~_

Needless to say, this paper provided more questions than it did answers. Still, it was a start. The business cards they found in the other drawer weren't much help either. They were fairly plain, with the name _Fable Tailor_ embossed in black, with a sixteen digit phone number and extension. This they dialed and, after three rings, got this message:

"_Hey, you've reached the message box for Fable Tailor. If you're calling with information about Gentleman Starkey's Yorkshire Terrier, the good captain was more than kind enough to fill me in on the, er... less than pleasant details on how Nibbles "retired", so that story is, I'm afraid, quite ended. All other calls please leave a message with at least your name. I can't use information without a source. Rest assured that I will use utmost discretion in confessions of treachery, mutiny, deceit or otherwise. Thanks for calling."_

Danny hung up before the machine began recording. They stared in puzzled silence as if the phone might give them an answer to all the strange questions forming in their minds.

"Maybe she's a reporter?" Tucker suggested.

"She's a little young for that don't you think?" Sam replied.

"You got a better explanation?"

"What would Vlad want with a reporter?"

"_Half- Ghost_ reporter."

Sam rolled her eyes.

"That still doesn't explain what this has to do with the Guys-in-White," Danny interjected. "Last I checked, they were the only ones with a memory altering device."

"Which I destroyed," Tucker reminded him.

"Well, one thing's for sure," said Sam, "she doesn't particularly _like_ them."

"Vlad, the Guys-in-White, and a reporter who just happens to be half-ghost. It just doesn't make sense."

Sam was just about to respond when she heard the jangle of a cleaning cart outside the door. Reflexively, Danny grabbed her and Tucker and turned them all invisible.

Not a moment later a girl, presumably Eloise, walked in pushing a cart. A pair of headphones stuck in her ears and she smacked her gum, bobbing her head to the beat the way one does only when they think no one is looking. She stopped in the middle of the room and looked around, sighing heavily at the sight of the still open drawer with the remaining business cards. She snatched them up, carelessly tossing them into the trash bin, and slammed the drawer shut with a bang. Still standing in the same spot mind, she then glanced over the room one last time and, apparently satisfied, walked out. It wasn't until they were sure she was gone for good that Danny released his friends and regained his own visibility.

"Oookaaay," Sam intoned.

"Maybe we should talk about this later," Danny suggested. Sam and Tucker nodded in agreement and, after one more brief search, went home.

OoOoOoO

Clockwork shook his head as he observed all this within the time viewer. He knew full well that the trio's search would reveal little to their mounting curiosities. It would be a vain expedition of dead ends and distractions.

_Distractions he cannot afford._ He thought as he moved on to another scene. This one depicted a desolate wasteland, devoid of all life and covered by a dying shadow. The only clue to what had been before was a large marble monument in the form of an angel with a chilling inscription at its base.

_In memory of Daniel James Fenton, hero of Amity Park._

_Wrongfully judged by those who should have loved him._

_With his last heroic act he fell to the shadow._

_May his sacrifice not be in vain._

* * *

><p>AN:Okay, so my new plan is to update at _least_ once a month. I know some of you will still find that incredibly long, but please bear with me. I'm still re-learning how to schedule my time, and with four classes this semester, it's gonna be a trick.

Thanks for hangin' in there with me and, as always, any constructive criticism is welcome and, in fact, encouraged. ^_^

References:

A nod to The Men in Black. I don't think I have to explain myself there. ^_^

"If he were tellin' the truth, he wouldn't 'av told us." ~Murtogg, "Pirates of the Caribbean- The Curse of the Black Pearl"

Gentleman Starkey: One of Hook's crewmen. No, seriously, look it up. ^_^


	7. Field Trip of DOOM

A/N: Okay, as penance for my recent lapse in punctuality, I have finished this chapter a little early. So early, in fact, that I have, I regret to say, neglected to respond to everyone's reviews individually as I usually attempt to do. I will respond to them in the review bit below, but after this I will no longer be responding in that way. I believe it is better for me to respond to you guys individually. I will still recognize reviewers in my A/N's, but only by pen-name.

I will try to keep to my "once a month" promise; however, something has recently come up that may delay me a bit. I am absolutely pleased as punch to announce that my sister, Isabelleauthor, is getting married! He's not on Fanfic, but I think we can forgive him for that. Since he doesn't have a pen-name, I am awarding him the title "Big Bro".

In any case, since I am the maid of honor, my schedule will be, ah, shall we say, hectic. The _plan_ is to have chapter 7 out by the last week of October, but we shall see.

Glad tidings aside, here's to some reviewers! Chronologically of course.

Ms. Frizzle: I'm glad you liked my ideas. I sat at my fave pizza place for two hours (The cab was slow) wracking my brains over it. I figured, as many crazy things do in the name of "networking", why not dangerous "ghost events"? Hope you continue to enjoy the fic!

Lil' sis: So what if he _does_? What are _you_ going to do about it? ~Eyes snarling Roecliffe warily~

Vamps: Ooh! Ooh! Warmer. Not quite there, but pretty warm nonetheless. ^_^

Truephan: The eye is quite healed, but the next chapter seems to be starting in on me now, so some more bruises may be in coming. Heheh. ^_^ Glad you liked the bit with Clockwork. He'll show up a few more times throughout the story. The next one might be even sooner than you think. ^_^

Also, I realized I have not yet acknowledged any of my fave/alert readers. I'm only going to acknowledge these once, when they occur, so anyone mentioned after this is a new fave/alert reader.

Alerts: Deathstroke Terminator, MiniHayden, and Skye of the Night.

Fave's: Ellenar Ride, That Ghost Geek (Hunter), and Vamps

Both: DannysaysRAWR, Raini, Lil' Sis, Paperdog, and Truephan

Thanks to all of you for your support. ^_^

And now that I've dedicated an entire page of Arial font to my author's note. Bandersnatch! The disclaimer!

Bandersnatch: Ugh! Why me? Okay, look, Phyllis doesn't own anything from Danny Phantom, or any of the other potentially copyrighted material as is referred to in the footnotes section at the bottom of this chapter. A chapter, mind, that I'd like to get to before our readers get BORED!

Phyllis: Wish granted. On with the show! ^_^

* * *

><p>Abigail's eyes could not have grown any wider. If they had, they may well have fallen out of her head. Of course she really couldn't be blamed. The Ghost Zone is a lot to take in. The black and green that made up the sky and seemed to stretch to eternity, floating doors and stone islands that hung in midair, all of it surrounded in the same sort of eerie glow that she had in her ghost form. The sight made her feel dizzy, excited, and anxious all at once.<p>

"Enjoying the scenery, are we?"

Abigail looked back at her uncle, who was hovering about ten feet away from her. She knew from the stern, yet slightly bemused expression on his face that she had been gawking again. She quickly closed the mouth she hadn't realized she'd been holding open and smiled in apology.

"Abigail," her uncle continued, turning serious, "We are already late. I need for you to keep up."

Abigail sheepishly gave a quick nod before closing the gap between them. It was her fault they were late. Her uncle hadn't said it was, but the way he had kept looking at his watch and back at her all throughout the remainder of their training had said enough.

She followed her uncle silently, doing her best to keep up with him. Inexperienced as she was, it was much akin to a preteen attempting to keep up with a long-legged adult and, said adult, was in rather a hurry.

It wasn't _entirely_ her fault. She really had tried her best. She had spent two hours working on her intangibility, creating and using ecto-blasts, and forming ecto-shields.

She rubbed her arm subconsciously as she thought about it. She had quickly discovered that, while creating ecto-energy was fairly simple, controlling it was another matter entirely. If it wasn't difficult enough shaping and aiming her ecto-blasts properly, forming the energy into a solid shield was worse. Before they left, Uncle Vlad had insisted she learn how to form a basic shield, capable of withstanding low level energy blasts. Unfortunately, that meant testing it, and since Uncle Vlad also wanted her to be able to do it 'under pressure' he had set the room's hidden turrets to fire on her every few seconds. The blasts were not enough to harm her, but they still stung so that, at the moment, she felt as if she had been ambushed by a troop of trigger happy paint-ballers. She hoped her uncle was right about her ghost half's "regenerative capabilities." Otherwise there was certainly going to be some bruising.

She rubbed gingerly at another sore spot before looking up and realizing she had managed to drift several feet away from her uncle. With a gasp, she sped to catch up, hoping he wouldn't notice. He had given her three rules for their first trip into the Ghost Zone. Rule one: she was not speak to any ghosts Uncle Vlad had not introduced her to, and even then _only_ if she had been spoken to first. Rule two: she had to keep up, not lag behind, or venture off on her own. Rule three: follow any and all other directions. To. The. Letter.

Abigail knew these rules were for her safety, but thus far she had seen nothing that seemed particularly dangerous. She wondered what sort of trouble her uncle had managed to find in this strange place.

That, of course, had her thinking about some of her _other_ questions.

Hey, was that a library? Cool!

Vlad sighed slightly as he sensed the girl near him again. He had, in actuality, been gradually increasing his speed to see how well the girl could keep up. The faster they could travel, the better; particularly since they were running late. A few feet more and he would have slowed to allow the girl to catch up, but there was no need.

They had been traveling in silence for quite some time, which was perfectly fine as far as Vlad was concerned. So then, it came as quite a surprise when Abigail finally spoke.

"Hey, Uncle Vlad?" she started.

"Hm?"

"How did you become half-ghost?"

Vlad's flight and the gears turning in his head all came to a sudden, screeching halt. They had been going so fast that the girl was only able to stop after flying several feet past him. He watched as she turned back, looking at her as if she had managed to grow a second head. He realized after a moment that the question really wasn't such an odd one. It was just that _no one_ had ever asked it before. Most of the ghosts he encountered were more than happy to stay out of personal affairs, and the only other people who knew he was half-ghost were Daniel, and Danielle.

It had never occurred to Danielle to question him, he imagined, because she had been _created_ half-ghost. It would have been like a child asking why its mother had two eyes. Daniel, he had always assumed, had figured it out the same way he had determined the boy's own experience. Idiot Jack Fenton, and the Fenton Portal; it didn't take a genius to put two-and-two together. Jack had probably mentioned telling his children about the accident that had caused his ecto-acne. Honestly, it was just like the oaf to reveal his "college buddy's" most humiliating experience just before coming to meet him. no doubt Daniel had managed to come to a fairly accurate conclusion as to his own experience. Of course, it was also possible he just didn't care. It _was_ Daniel after all.

But, of course it wasn't Daniel or Danielle who was doing the asking. It was the girl whom he considered to be merely one of his pawns—and a rather irritating one at that since the girl seemed to have a habit of asking such personal questions! His first thought was to blow the question off. After all, he wasn't about to let her into his inner circle. Still, he had to give her the façade that he was feeling somewhat avuncular towards her; so, he felt it would be best to give the girl _some_ answer. But just how much should he tell her?

He brightened with his next thought and smirked only to himself. He could tell her _anything_— he could omit the _entire_ truth if he wished!

Abigail became quite convinced she was not going to get an answer to her question when Vlad hadn't said anything for a time, particularly after they had begun to move forward again. Was it really so bad that he didn't even want to talk about it? In fact, she was just about to tell him to forget about it when he spoke again.

"Abigail, you remember Daniel," he intoned.

"Um, yeah," Abigail replied.

"His parents and I attended the same University," he explained. "Jack was my roommate, and Maddie was… ah, a mutual friend."

He cleared his throat audibly. Even now he was regretting putting any kind of truth in his story. Still, he pressed on. After all, what was it that people said about it? Ah, yes: the best kind of lies were those based in truth.

"They were both very interested in supernatural phenomena. Jack tried to talk me into joining them in some of their research and, eventually, I gave in. Jack had the idea of creating an artificial portal into the Ghost Zone."

He paused at the sudden flood of unexpected bitterness that flowed within him from the memory. It still pained him—and just as unexpectedly, began to muddle his mind.

"I definitely was very skeptical about it at first, but since we were friends, I went along with it."

"We spent the greater part of the year on that proto-portal," he continued, unaware that his bitterness was beginning to cloak his voice.

"Calculating, experimenting, engineering; my entire _life_ seemed to be centered on this one, impossible goal."

He frowned as his emotions came to a slow boil. All of the hurt and anger surrounding those usually buried, but now abruptly opened, memories began to take over.

He didn't realize that the tone of his voice had darkened as he continued, "The day we were to test the prototype was also the day I had planned to ask Maddie to join me at an upcoming formal. She was… busy. Very focused on the experiment. I resigned to wait until the end of the experiment to speak with her."

"I never got the opportunity. _Jack_," and here he forcibly spat the name, "had made some errors in his calculations. As I was giving the portal one final glance to make sure everything was in place, the fat fool, _without_ warning— and, by the way, I hardly consider shouting "Bonzai" as you are _pressing the button_ adequate warning— activated the device. I was hit directly with raw ecto-energy, the effects of which left me hospitalized for four years. That was also what turned me into a half-ghost!"

He paused, all the while scrunching his eyes and face and gritting his teeth at the painful memory.

Meanwhile, Abigail's eyes had widened at the sudden change in her uncle. She had no idea how much he had been affected by all of this. In fact, it frightened her and she now regretted asking him. Still, she suddenly felt a wave of pity for her uncle wash over her and she had to know more.

"What did Jack and Maddie do when they found out?" she hesitantly, yet gently, asked.

"What a ridiculous question," Vlad growled and, for a moment, Abigail thought that was to be the end of it.

"It was Jack's idiocy and carelessness that caused the accident in the first place! Why on earth would I trust him with such a delicate matter? As to Maddie—"

His voice softened considerably, and he was suddenly aware that his breathing had significantly increased.

Suddenly, he jolted with the realization: he had no idea that the pain surrounding that memory would be strong enough for him to lose control so that he would end up actually telling the girl almost everything!

He forced himself to get a hold of himself. He had to bury saying anything more before he would lose all control….

"It was just… never the right time. I wanted to be sure she—"

He cleared his throat audibly once more. He frowned again, now irritated with himself. This was turning into the sort of conversation he might have with his cat. And the girl was certainly not a cat. That was enough for him to come back full circle. He now had full reins over the pain of his memory and it was time to end this conversation.

Still unable to keep the last bit of resentment from slipping out, he abruptly concluded, "Yes, well, Jack quite resolved _that_ when he married her _behind my back_. And that's all there is to it!"

While still listening to the man, Abigail briefly glanced at what appeared to be a large prison compound coming close to their flight path. She hoped they weren't headed to that place since she didn't like the look of it at all. Fortunately, Vlad didn't steer toward it and she turned her full attention back to her uncle… Honestly, she wasn't quite sure what to say about it. What had happened to her uncle was just awful. Stuck in a hospital for _four_ _years_? Not even able to tell your best friend? And then losing his girl?

"Did you tell _anyone_?" she asked.

"Oh, honestly, Abigail!" Vlad said in exasperation, pinching the bridge of his nose. This trip seemed to be taking even _longer_ than it usually did. "No. I didn't tell anyone and, apart from Daniel's sister and one other individual, you have met every _living_ person who knows about it. It isn't the sort of thing you tell people, Abigail. There are far too many dangers in allowing that sort of information to get out."

"Oh," Abigail replied softly. "That…that must've made you feel very lonely."

Vlad nearly stopped again in surprise.

"Yes," he said with a touch of sadness, "I suppose it did."

Though she knew she was many years too late, Abigail yearned to do something, _anything_ to relieve her uncle's pain. Truly, what _could_ she do? Be the best, most attentive niece her uncle could want? Perhaps, but it somehow didn't seem enough.

Aside from that, there was still one thing that troubled her.

Whoa! Was that ghost actually riding a _motorcycle?_

She shook her head.

_Focus Abigail._

"Uncle Vlad?"

"Yes, Abigail?" Vlad replied, stifling a groan. He truly regretted agreeing to tell her anything.

"Um… what happened between you and Jack… is that why you don't like Danny?"

Vlad turned, putting out a hand to catch Abigail's shoulder before she could pass him by again.

"And just where did you get _that_ idea?" he asked.

Abigail blinked in surprise.

"Well, I mean seriously," she said. "You guys didn't exactly seem like best pals when you found me yesterday."

"Yes, well I suppose I was a bit out of sorts, given the circumstances," Vlad said pointedly.

Abigail blushed.

Vlad sighed and went back to flying.

"I assure you, Abigail, that I am really quite fond of Daniel," he said. "Unfortunately, we do not quite see eye-to-eye."

"On what?" asked Abigail.

"Many things," the older hybrid intoned. "For example, from the moment I discovered that Daniel was a half-ghost like me, I felt it was my duty to take him under my wing. Teach him everything I know. He, however, was not interested. Apparently he prefers stumbling about in his ignorance, nearly getting himself killed through trial and error."

Abigail grinned.

"Headstrong Icarus," she said.

Vlad smirked. He couldn't have put it better himself. Daniel was reckless, impulsive, and utterly blinded by that sun he called "good". One day his heroics were going to bring him too close to that deadly orb and Danny Phantom would fall. Vlad could only hope he would be there; ready to pick up the pieces and put them back together with his _own_ design. He had told Daniel before that it was only a matter of time. One way or another, the boy_ would_ join him.

"Whoa! What is _that_?!"

The girl's sudden outburst shook Vlad from his thoughts. It didn't take long to figure out what had caught her attention. Looming ahead of them was a massive floating island, covered almost entirely in a sort of jungle canopy. Up towards the farther end of it was what appeared to be a massive skull, which served as a fairly convincing warning to trespassers.

"That," said Vlad, "is our destination."

The girl's eyes widened considerably.

"_There_?" she said, anxiously tugging at her hair.

"There is an associate of mine who lives here," the older hybrid explained. "There is a small matter that I need to speak with him about."

Of course, Vlad normally conducted the majority of business at his own home, including discussing things with his 'associate'. It wasn't so much a matter of security as it was convenience. But in this instance, Vlad knew his associate would be very reluctant to speak about the subject he intended to bring up. Therefore, he had to make avoiding the conversation as difficult as possible for his ally. And to do that, Vlad had to change his tactics and use what he knew about the ghost to his advantage. His ally would definitely be more reluctant to throw him out here than he would to simply leave his mansion if they disagreed. In fact, his associate played the _host_ so predictably that Vlad knew that this was the perfect solution. Vlad smirked. Truly, no one was really safe in their own house under those 'rules of hospitality'.

Abigail, meanwhile, was contemplating just what sort of person, erm, ghost, would live in such a place. A pirate ghost perhaps? A cave ghost wielding an enormous club? A former tribal leader? None of these made her feel any better about venturing to the island. The last one in particular made her think of cannibals. Her only consolation was that she really couldn't fathom her uncle associating with any of the above.

Then again, as she was learning, there was still quite a bit she didn't know about her uncle.

Speaking of Uncle Vlad, what was he doing? He had slowed down considerably and seemed to be looking for something through the trees. Why didn't they just fly down to the island?

Abigail grew even more apprehensive at the thought of all the possible reasons why.

"There," he said finally, pointing to a small clearing before moving toward it. Abigail followed close behind. She landed in the clearing near her uncle, who was looking down a dense path through the trees with interest.

"Abigail, I need for you to remain here while I figure out the safest route," he said. "I will return shortly. If anything— DON'T TOUCH THAT!"

Abigail snapped her hand away from the hibiscus-like plant she had been about to inspect, just as it took a snap at her.

"This is not some conservatory for you to observe at your leisure," the older hybrid scolded. "The Ghost Zone is _not_ a playground! Anything can present a serious danger to you."

He sighed.

"I should only be gone for a moment, and in the meantime. Don't. Touch. Anything! Am I clear?"

Abigail shrank back, nodding meekly.

Satisfied that the message was understood, Vlad disappeared into the trees.

"Don't touch anything," Abigail muttered once he was out of earshot. "What am I, five?"

She folded her arms indignantly. Sure he was just being protective, but seriously?

With nothing better to do, Abigail began to take stock of her surroundings. The island didn't seem nearly as menacing from this angle. True, it wasn't Mary Lennox's garden at Misselthwaite;(1) but despite the eerie glow cast over everything, the plants were really quite lovely. She didn't recognize the majority of them, and what she thought she recognized often still seemed strange to her. In a way, she couldn't help feeling rather enchanted by the sight.

An impossibly large pink orchid suddenly caught her eye. Entranced by its beauty, her breath caught in her throat as she gazed at it. She started to move to get a closer look, but stopped warily, remembering her uncle's directions.

_Uncle Vlad said 'don't touch' not 'don't move', _she reasoned. The thought encouraged her, and she moved closer.

She had not taken three steps when she tripped over a vine and landed face first in front of a tree with what appeared to be a large, glowing, black stone sticking out from the base of the trunk. She attempted to use the stone as a support as she stood up, but gave a small cry of surprise when the 'stone' squished slightly under the pressure. Using the tree to help her the rest of the way, she backed away quickly in case the squishy rock had somehow been offended.

As she watched, the black surface of what she had _thought_ was a stone began to peel back as if it were tissue paper wrapped around a present. A large purple bud was under it. The bud then began to quickly open until five thick, large, dark lavender petals spotted with yellow bumps emerged. There was a large hole in the center of it just large enough for a human head to fit through.

All of this took less than half a minute so that Abigail had not a moment to take it all in before the flower shot a blast of yellow pollen from its center, which caught her right in the face. She coughed and hacked as a thick, sweet scent attacked her senses; but as suddenly as it invaded, the scent dissipated. It was a curious smell, one which makes you want to breathe it in deeper, ever luring you closer to its source. Had Abigail known anything about ghost flora, this fact alone should have made her wary.

A good botanist would probably have remarked that the flower was quite a bit like Rafflesia, also called 'corpse flower' due to its rotting meat scent, meant to attract pollinators. The flower was rather like Rafflesia in a sense. It was 'Ghost Rafflesia' which, apart from its coloration and greatly shortened growth period, was different from 'normal' Rafflesia in just three ways.

First of all, the Ghost Rafflesia's method of attraction was the blast of sickly sweet smelling pollen. Also, unlike 'normal' Rafflesia, the Ghost Rafflesia's target was not bugs, but rather small ghost animals. Finally, quite unlike the foul-smelling, harmless, _normal_ Rafflesia, Ghost Rafflesia was carnivorous, feeding off the ecto-energy of the organisms it managed to ensnare.

By the time a botanist had managed to finish explaining all of this, they probably would be kneeling right next to the flower, preparing to stick their head right into the large hole at the center, as the pollen would have dissipated far too much at that point to be smelled otherwise.

Abigail, fully possessed by the scent, managed to do just that. She sobered up rather quickly; however, when the large, leathery petals snapped shut tight around her, leaving her arms sticking out from between them at odd angles. Unable to see because of the darkness, and beginning to feel an odd, pulling sensation from the plant, she screamed. Her screams only intensified when she felt the energy being pulled straight from her core, followed by a feeling as if electricity were being run through her body.

She pushed and pulled, ripped at, and even beat at the plant in an effort to free herself. The harder she struggled, the harder the plant pulled back. She felt tears roll down her nose as she continued to shriek in agony. She was just about to resign herself to oblivion when she felt a different sort of pressure, this time around her waist. Thinking some other, terrible creature had managed to get a hold of her, and fearing even greater pain from this new assailant, she twisted and kicked at it in an attempt to free herself once again.

"Abigail, it's me! Stop struggling!"

The voice was difficult to make out between her screams and the thick petals of the plant. Still, Abigail managed to hear and recognize it. Though she could not stop her sobs and screams, she heeded her uncle and ceased moving. She felt a tight pull, then a sound like a small explosion.

The plant eased its hold for a moment, as if startled, and that was all Vlad needed to yank the girl out. They both tumbled backward and, sitting up quickly, the elder hybrid used another ecto-blast to reduce the plant to ashes– just for good measure. He saw the girl sit up as well, staring at the charred remains in stunned horror. Then, without warning, she threw her arms over his neck and, clinging desperately to him, buried her face in his shoulder and began to cry again.

"I told you not to touch anything!" Vlad scolded.

"I d-didn't mean to Uh-Uncle Vlad," the girl blubbered, "I t-tripped and, and, th-the rock, it-"

Realizing they weren't likely to get very far with the girl carrying on in this state, Vlad embraced the girl in an attempt to calm her down more quickly. At first she only cried harder, but the sobs soon subsided to a more manageable level.

Honestly, he couldn't understand what the girl's problem was. It was just Ghost Rafflesia. They were unpleasant to be sure but—

"It hurt so much," the girl said, whimpering slightly.

Vlad frowned.

"Hurt?" he inquired.

"Like my whole body was on fire," she explained. "I thought... I thought I was going to die."

Vlad's frown deepened. Any instance where a ghost's core was robbed of energy was unpleasant, but Ghost Rafflesia usually drew its victim's energy out gradually, so the sensation was usually no worse than a mild case of heartburn.

He pushed the girl away to get a better look at her. She _looked_ fine. No odd burns or scrapes. Her breath was a bit shaky, but that was probably just from all the crying she'd done.

"How do you feel now?" he asked.

"I'm alright," Abigail said, wiping her face with the back of her hand, before smiling a little. "Thanks Uncle Vlad."

"Just don't make a habit of it," her uncle replied.

Abigail chuckled weakly. He _was_ kidding, right?

The older hybrid stood and helped her to her feet.

"The best route is in this direction," he said, pointing through the trees. "You'll need to follow my movements carefully, unless you wish to find yourself trapped, pegged to a tree, or possibly skewered."

"_Skewered_?" Abigail repeated nervously.

"My associate has a fondness for traps," he explained. "Just stay close."

The girl was, to Vlad's relief, far too wary now to be careless. The remainder of the trip was blissfully short, and without incident.

It wasn't long before they entered another clearing. It was much like the other except that, at the center of it was a little stone house. It had a large purple door, a couple of windows, and a small chimney. All-in-all, it looked fairly plain compared to what Abigail had seen so far. She was certain now that the inhabitant could not be a cave ghost or tribal leader. It didn't fit with the house. Pirate was still an option, but she couldn't help thinking about the huntsman from Snow White, or Little Red Riding Hood. Then of course, 'evil witch' and 'band of thieves' made their way into the list, and she found herself more nervous than ever.

She watched as her uncle strode casually up to the entrance and knocked on the door. There were sounds of movement beyond, some grunting, and a bit of clanging, before the door opened.

Abigail gasped. Of all the things she could have imagined that would be standing inside that door, this was not one of them. A huge, ghost _robot_ with green flames for hair, dressed in combat boots, and generally looking like a mechanical version of Rambo was _not_ on her list!

The robot glared at her uncle.

"You're late," it growled.

"Yes well, there were a couple of minor delays," Uncle Vlad replied.

The spectral cyborg narrowed its eyes, then turned to look in Abigail's direction.

"Who's the whelp?" he demanded. "One of your experiments?"

Abigail was too terrified to question just what the mechanical monster had meant by that.

"Ah, no," her uncle replied, moving behind her and nudging her closer to the ghost. "This is Abigail Fable, my niece."

Fable was the secondary name that they had decided to give Abigail's ghost half. Well, _Abigail_ was the one who had decided that. Uncle Vlad hadn't seemed too fond of it, but to Abigail's delight, he had allowed her to retain it.

"Abigail," her uncle continued, "this is my associate, Skulker."

Abigail stared wide-eyed at the strange ghost. She knew she should introduce herself, but just how did one greet a cyborg? She felt like Alice, stuck in an upside down world where robots were ghosts and lived in little stone houses in the jungle.

"_If you think we're wax-works," said Tweedledum, "You ought to pay, you know. Wax-works weren't made to be looked at for nothing, nohow!"_

"_Contrariwise," added Tweedledee, "if you think we're alive, you ought to speak."_

"_You've been wrong!" cried Tweedledum. "The first thing in a visit is to say "How d'ye do?" and shake hands!" _(2)

With no better recourse coming to mind, Abigail stuck out her hand.

"How do you do?"

The words were not long out of her mouth when it occurred to her that were the cybor- Skulker to accept the handshake, she would likely be left with no hand to speak of. Still, it seemed wrong somehow to withdraw at this juncture.

To her surprise, and ultimate relief, the cyborg just stared at her in surprise before bursting into laughter.

Vlad, however, was not amused.

"Your- your _niece_?" laughed Skulker.

"Yes, Skulker," Vlad growled, "_my niece_."

"Alright Plasmius," Skulker replied, shaking his head. "Is _this_ what you wanted to talk to me about?"

"No," Vlad replied, removing a small device from under his cloak. It was a small, flat, square box with some outlying circuitry, and a few buttons, with a handle at one end, and two green prongs at the other.

Skulker eyed the device suspiciously, and then looked up at Vlad again.

"Alright," he said, "you can come in."

Vlad grinned, and then turned back to his charge.

"Abigail," he said, "I need you to stay out here while I speak with Skulker. The area around here should be safe, so you shouldn't run into any problems so long as you stay put. Do you understand?"

The girl nodded.

Vlad started toward the door, and then stopped. The girl had already nearly managed to get herself eaten by a plant. What if she should encounter more trouble through sheer naiveté? From what he'd seen from her so far, he wouldn't put it past her.

He turned to look at her. No... no, she would be fine. That incident with the Ghost Rafflesia had frightened her enough; he was sure she wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

"Should anything happen," he told the girl, "I will be just inside. Do try to stay out of trouble, hm?"

"Okay Uncle Vlad."

"Good girl," said Vlad.

Abigail sighed as she watched her uncle disappear into the house. One thing was certain: if this was how trips in to the Ghost Zone were going to go, she wanted to return as _infrequently_ as possible. While seeing the different structures on the way had been interesting, actually visiting these places seemed to be an activity fraught with either danger, or intense boredom. Before she might have looked at some of the surrounding flora to occupy her time, but now she wanted to stay as far away from _that _as possible.

Being alone in an unfamiliar place with little to nothing to do can give rise to all sorts of irrational fancies. Given that Abigail had just nearly been eaten by a plant, those irrational fears seemed even more rational than usual. Every shadow, every snap of a twig now bespoke of some terrible monster, just ready to devour or otherwise maim her. She found herself backing closer and closer to the stone house.

Just as she felt her back touch the stone, she heard a series of thuds and snaps growing louder and louder in quick succession. Thudding, snapping, crashing loudly echoed; as if some great animal were just barreling its way through the trees.

As the sound grew louder, Abigail began to notice a ring of laughter accompanying it. It made her think of 'The Legend of Sleepy Hollow'. Had it occurred to her that the Headless Horseman's laughter would surely have been much less playful, it would have done little to console her. (3)

Following that was a sort of whistling sound, like several arrows shot all at once at the same target.

"YEEHAW!"

To Abigail's shock, a large skeleton horse burst suddenly into the clearing, driven by a pint-sized, freckle faced cowboy ghost with an enormous hat. Abigail knew she had heard the term "ten gallon hat" at some point. She was sure this hat could hold at least two and a half!

The horse skidded to a stop at about the middle of the clearing as the small cowboy waved his hat around, seemingly for effect.

"Great job settin' off that trap," he said to the horse. "That'll teach them cattle wrestlers a thing or two!"

"It's cattle _rustlers_," the horse said dryly.

Abigail blinked. The horse _talked_? And the cowboy! She nearly laughed. He was just a kid!

"Really?" the cowboy kid replied incredulously.

"Don't look now," said the horse, turning his head in Abigail's direction. "I think we have company."

"Huh?" the cowboy answered, turning to look. He was greatly relieved to see it _wasn't_ Skulker. He knew the hunter would come by and kick him out eventually, like always, but he wanted to have a little fun first. And speaking of fun, this girl looked like a perfect target!

The child ghost grinned at the thought and kicked the horse's flank, er, ribs.

The horse rolled its eyes, but obediently trotted closer to Abigail.

"Howdy ma'am," said the cowboy, tipping his hat the best he could without having it fall right off his head. "I don't suppose you know someplace my friend and I can wrestle up some grub?"

"_Rustle_," the horse corrected again through gritted teeth.

"Whatever!" the cowboy shot back indignantly.

Amused with his 'pretend' game, Abigail smiled at the imaginative boy ghost. Somehow, the youngster's game triggered a vague, yet cherished memory. She really couldn't explain _why_ it was so obscure or touching. It just was. She couldn't even guess, then, that it all had to do with the fact that she had a younger sister; a sister who had only quit playing pretend games about a year ago when she had determined she was "too old" for such a pastime. Not only that, Abigail had forgotten that she had, more often than not, willingly played a key role in those games; and that she was actually quite a natural when it came to playing 'pretend'.

Well, old habits die hard. And for some strange reason, she could not resist leaning lazily against the stone house, pulling an imaginary hat down over her eyes.

"Sorry pardner," she drawled in a somewhat sub-par accent. "Ain't nuthin' fer miles 'cept cacti 'n tumbleweed."

The young ghost seemed surprised at first, almost as if he hadn't actually expected a response. Then his face took on a devious expression as his mouth twisted into a mischievous grin before he responded darkly:

"Then there'll be no one to hear you scream."(4)

* * *

><p>1. Mary Lennox is the main character from "The Secret Garden". In the book she comes to live at "Misselthwaite Manor."<p>

2. Dialogue from "Through the Looking Glass". Modified slightly for clarification and brevity.

3. In the story "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow" the Headless Horseman doesn't actually laugh. No doubt Rebecca has seen the Disney cartoon and is remembering _that_.

4. "A word my lady. We are but poor, lost circus performers. Is there a village nearby?"

"There is nothing nearby. Not for miles."

"Then there will be no one to hear you scream." ~Vizzini and Buttercup, "The Princess Bride". Although, I'm guessing our young ghost friend here said it a _little_ differently. ^_^.

Hope you enjoyed reading that chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. I would love to hear your thoughts on it. Some good ol' CC is always good for the writer's soul!

Until next time!


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